


blinded

by thebadwolf



Series: Wolves Of Wind [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blind Character, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 56,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebadwolf/pseuds/thebadwolf
Summary: Sherlock is blinded due to an injury on a case. Poor John has the job of taking care of him.  As the two of them come to terms with the fact Sherlock's vision will never be the same they start to fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

Life for Sherlock and John was starting to become normal once again. Well, as normal as their lives ever where or ever would be. Living in 221b with a baby wasn't easy. There never seemed to be enough room. Either they were tripping over Sherlock's mess or one of Rosie's toys. They would make it work though. Neither one of them could ever think of leaving their home again.

Except for cases of course. John had come home from a half day of work. He was hoping to have something to eat, play with Rosie, and maybe get some landry done.

To his shock he found Sherlock packing. There were two small bags on the couch. The detective was fully dressed and running around in a circle.

"What's going on?" John asked watching his friend.

"Case," he said. "We'll be gone overnight at the least. I've left Rosie with Mrs. Hudson."

"I don't have tomorrow off," John tried to explain.

"Call in sick," Sherlock said waving him off. "You haven't done that in ages. I need you."

John was about to aruge when he saw Sherlock had already packed his bags. Perhaps a case away would do them some good. Sherlock was helping him a lot with Rosie. He usually watched her while he was at work. Sherlock didn't really like the idea of hiring a baby sitter.

"Fine," John said. "I take you packed everything I needed."

"It's all done," Sherlock said. "I've already called a cab. It should be here any momment."

"Can I ask where we are going or what the case is?" John questioned.

"A little girl went missing two weeks ago," he said. "They found her right away. She just showed up in a field near their house. She wouldn't say where she had been. Well, now she is gone again."

"The parents called you?" John questioned.

"Yes," he said. "We're going to met them."

John couldn't say no to that case. They had to find the child. Who knows what could happen to her if they didn't help. John picked up the bags and headed downstairs.

 

\---

 

As usual John was kept in the dark about Sherlock's thoughts and plans until they reached the family's home. It was a large family farm in the middle of no where.

It was getting dark when they stepped out of the cab and into the open air. John could hear a dog barking and cows mooing in the distance. Two police cars sat in the drive way. There weren't any police men in sight.

A woman opened the front door of the house and ran out to greet them.

"Thank heavens!" she cried running down the walk towards them. "I was worried you wouldn't beat the snow here."

"Snow?" John questioned.

He had looked at the weather earlier and there was no call for snow.

"Yes," she said nodding. "There is a front moving in. Oh! Let me take your bags."

The woman took their bags into her hands even though John aruged he could carry it himself.

"Nonsense," she said. "You're here to find my little Courtney."

Sherlock and John followed the woman into the house. John was glad the inside of the house was warm. It was starting to get chilly outside.

"My name is Raine," she said. "Jerry is outside tending to the animals. I'm afraid I only have one guest room. I hope that won't be a problem."

"No," Sherlock said speaking for the first time. "I won't spend much time sleeping any ways. John put our things away. I want to look around the house."

"Fine," John said.

Raine and John headed up stairs leaving Sherlock in the entry way.

"Do you think he can really find her?" Raine questioned. "I've heard good things but..."

"If anyone can find her it's Sherlock," John said.

Raine stopped at a door and John quickly opened it for her. It was a simple bedroom with a dresser and a large bed. An open door revealed a bathroom. Raine set the bags down on the bed.

"She didn't tell you anything before she went missing the second time?" John questioned.

"Not a word," she said. "It was almost as if she was never gone."

"How long was she gone?" John asked retrived a note pad and pen from his pocket.

"A little over a day," she explained. "When she didn't come in for dinner I looked every where for her. I called the police. They didn't find her until morning. She was sitting in the back field just staring at the sky."

"Did you search the field before?" he questioned taking notes.

"Oh yes," she said. "I was worried she had fallen asleep out there playing."

"How old she is Courtney?" the good doctor asked.

"Eight," her mother explained. "She is used to playing outside and loves being in the woods. I was hoping she had just wondered off and would come back on her own."

"How long has she been gone this time?" John asked.

"About fourteen hours," she said. "As soon as I couldn't find her I called the police. They suggested I call Sherlock Holmes. The officer thought it was strange she had disappeared again."

"Are the police on the grounds right now?" John questioned. "I saw the police car out front."

"Yes," she said nodding. "They're looking for her but I know they will have to stop soon with the snow."

"We'll do what can," John said. "We don't want her out there in the snow."

"No," Raine moved to the window to look out. "Please find her. I'll pay anything to make sure my little one is home safe and sound."

John decided it was time to find Sherlock. He left Raine staring out of the window to go back down stairs.

\---

 

He found Sherlock in the kitchen of all places going through the cabinets.

"What are you doing?" John questioned.

"Looking for clues," the detective said.

"In the cupboards?" the doctor asked. "What do you expect to find there?"

"No idea," Sherlock said shutting the door. "You never know what you'll find."

"It's going to snow soon," John said. "If you want to explore the outside we should do it now. There will be time to search the inside later."

Sherlock didn't seem to hear him. His head was in the frezzer. He shut it and then dove back under the cabniet. John stood shaking his head. No doubt there was a method to Sherlock's madness but sometimes even he didn't understand him.

"Lets go outside John," Sherlock said. "It's supposed to snow soon."

John rolled his eyes and followed Sherlock out of the house. A slight dusting was falling but nothing too serious. Sherlock was making for the edge of the woods.

"What do you think happened?" John questioned. "Was she kidnapped?"

"I don't believe it," Sherlock said as they crossed the open area. "I believe she left of her own free will."

"Why do you think that?" John asked.

"She took food with her," the detective said once they reached the wood's edge.

"How do you know that?" the doctor questioned.

"The house is very clean," he said. "Order is very important to these people. Despite the fact his daughter is missing the man of the home is tending to the animals. He is doing what needs to be done. I noticed in the kitchen there were oats spilled in the cabniet. The mother would have never left that mess."

"She took a bag of oats with her?" John asked in confusion. "She isn't feeding herself with dry oats."

"No," he said shaking his head. "She must be feeding something else."

"What could it be?" John asked.

"I checked the frezzer," Sherlock said glancing around. "They're farmers. They eat all kinds of wild game. Chanes are the little girl is feeding a deer or some such animal."

"She couldn't show her parents," John said. "She would be scared they would just eat it."

"Exactly," Sherlock said. "You!"

In the distance John could see a police officer walking through the woods. The man looked up at Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes?" he questioned walking closer.

"Have you seen any buildings out here?" Sherlock said guestering to the woods. "Something that hasn't used in a while."

"To the north a few hundred yards," the man said. "It looked like an old stoarge building. We searched it though Mr. Holmes."

"I'll check it out myself," Sherlock said heading in the direction the man signaled.

"We have to find her," John said as the wind began to blow harder. "She may not even realize the weather is turning."

Sherlock nodded as the snow began to fall faster. The two of them headed through the woods. It was a bit further than the officer had indicated but before long they came to a small building.

The consulting detective opened the door and looked inside. It was a simple building. Four walls, one window, and a few shelves inside. There was a trap down on the floor. Sherlock knelt down and gave the door a hard pull. It didn't bulge.

If the office did search the building he would assumed it was stuck. Sherlock didn't believe it. He thought perhaps it was being held on the other side.

"Courtney," Sherlock siad kneeling on the floor. "I'm a friend of your mother's. I need to you come up. A storm is coming and your parents are worried about you."

There was no reply from the silent building.

"Your deer will be fine," Sherlock said. "My friend is a doctor. I'll have him look at it."

"You brought a doctor?" a weak voice came.

John had actually lost faith in Sherlock for a minute. He really didn't believe the little girl was in the shake. He couldn't believe how easily Sherlock figured these things out.

"Yes," John said kneeling down. "I normally work with people but I know something about animals."

The hatch opened and a young girl climbed out. SHe was holding a rather young deer.

"Young for this time of the year," John said holding out his hands.

"I know," Courtney said handing the animal to him. "I had to help him. If my parents saw they'd eat him."

"Not enough meat on him," Sherlock said with a snort.

"Sherlock," John said narrowing his eyes. "This deer needs a vet. It loooks like her leg is broken."

"Poor Iffy," she said petting the animal.

"I'll make some phone calls," Sherlock said. "I'm sure we can find someone to take him in."

"Thank you," Courtney said frowning. "Are my parents mad at me?"

"They're worried," John said standing up. "Let's get you and Iffy home."

The three people walked out of the building. The snow was getting worse and a strong wind was whipping through the tree.

"We need to hurry," John said. "I can barely see the house."

Sherlock grumbled as he walked through the snow. He didn't like the snow. The cold seemed to effect him more than other people. He started walked up a small hill. John and Courtney were walking ahead of him.

He was looking ahead on him and not looking where his foot were going. As he headed down the other side of the hill he felt his foot catch on something.

"Ah!" he shouted as he felt his legs collapse.

He fell down to the ground and rolled down the small hill. He screamed as his face slammed into a rock.

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

Pain was spreading through out his face. It felt like someone had thrown the rock into his face. His head was spinning as he pulled himself to his feet. He looked up to see John and Courtney staring at him.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said nodding.

John didn't believe him but he knew there was no point arguing with him. It could wait until they got to the house.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Wow! Thanks for the love guys. I didn't really expect this story to get any love. If anyone has any suggestions/tips don't be afraid to speak up.  
\---

Courtney's parents were relieved to see she was alright. Her father took the deer out to the barn and made sure the animal was comfortable. Sherlock promised to call around and find a place to take the animal in the morning. 

John joined the family for dinner. Sherlock refused to eat. John was a bit worried about that. He normally ate whenever he finished a case. He was complaining of a headache. He was a little bruised up but didn't look too worse for the wear. Of course, he wouldn't let John look at him and check over the damage.

When John turned in for bed he was surprised to find Sherlock fast asleep. The man was lying in his pajamas under the blankets. Perhaps a slam to the face had done him some good. 

The good doctor would have to keep an eye on his friend to make sure he was alright. He changed into his pajamas and slipped under the blankets. He laid in the comfortable bed listening to Sherlock breath. After a long while he finally fell asleep.

\--

Sherlock was a bit slow getting around the next day. His face was starting to bruise. John managed to convince him to eat a little breakfast. He seemed to feel a little better.

They left to catch the train around noon. Courtney's parents couldn't stop thanking them. Her mother gave them a cheque for several hundred pounds. Sherlock didn't seem like he wanted it but Raine kept pushing it into his hands. 

Sherlock called an animal rescue to make sure the deer was picked up and helped.

By the time they got back to Baker Street Sherlock was more himself. As soon as Mrs. Hudson saw the bruises on his face she started to make over him like a broody mother hen.

"I fell," Sherlock explained pushing her away. "John looked at me."

That wasn't true. John was desperate to examine him but his friend wouldn't let him get near him. It was almost impossible to get Sherlock to agree to a medical examination. 

"How is Rosie?" John questioned trying to change the subject. 

"Fine," Mrs. Hudson said helping John with the bags. "She's having a nap right now. I'll bring her up as soon as she wakes up."

Sherlock wasn't feeling very fulfilled. The case hadn't been very interesting. He had only taken it because it was a missing child. He growled flopping down on the couch.

"Case wasn't very good darling?" Mrs. Hudson asked setting the bag down on the floor.

"He solved it too fast," John asked taking his bag to his room. "We'll find him something else soon enough."

"Not soon enough!" Sherlock shouted hitting a pillow.

\---

Sherlock noticed it right away. Small spots on his vision. At first he just wrote it off as dust in his eyes. He bought eye drops and tried to flush his eyes out. It didn't do any good. 

Part of him wanted to go to a doctor right away. He knew he should at least tell John. Yet, he didn't. He knew the good doctor would make a big show of it. He would insist on him going to an eye doctor and having tests done. 

He didn't want that. He hated doctors most of the time. Pushing. Prodding. Bossing. 

He tried to focus on caring on his with his life. Rosie was a hand full and John was working over time. Two doctors were out with new babies. He was trying to feel in as much as he could.

By forth day Sherlock knew he needed to see a doctor. He could only see about half of his vision. He had to be very careful when he walked with Rosie. The last thing he wanted to do was drop the baby.

John could tell something was going on with Sherlock but he had no idea how bad things really were. He wasn't home enough to notice Sherlock carefully walking around the flat. He did however notice Sherlock was keeping the flat much cleaner. 

The amateur detective decided he would go to the eye doctor on Monday if his vision wasn't better. He figured the slam to his head was to blame. He knew it had to be dealt with. 

Finally he got a call from Lestrade. He had something interesting arrive at Scotland yard and needed his input. Sherlock took Rosie down to Mrs. Hudson. 

The young child cried as she was removed from Sherlock's arm. She was with him the most and liked the attention he gave her.

"Sorry Rosie," he said handing her off. "I'll be back in a little. John will be home in an hour or so."

"It's alright," Mrs. Hudson said trying to calm Rosie. "Are you alright? You seem a little distant."

"Maybe I'm coming down with something," he said. "Flu season is coming up."

"It is," she said. "You need to eat something. It wouldn't be a bad idea to gain some weight during the winter."

Sherlock snorted and turning his attention away from his landlady. Food? He ate when he was hungry. It wasn't like he was starving. 

He wrapped his scarf around his neck and stepped out into the chill air.


	3. Chapter 3

Just so everyone knows I'm an American so my knowledge of British slang is a bit limited. I've learned a lot of it by watching British tv and reading Sherlock Holmes fanfictions. If I'm using the wrong word please feel free to tell me.  
\----

"It's a puzzle box," Lestrade explained as they walked across the room.

Sherlock knew he was saying more but he was more focused on watching his feet. There were suitcases, trash cans, and boxes next to people's desk. Why was it so cluttered? Was all of this stuff here normally?

It was hard him to keep track of all the objects with only half his vision.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade questioned. "Are you listening?"

"Of course I am," Sherlock said looking at him. "You received a puzzle box in the mail."

He saw the worried look on his friend's face. No doubt the good inspector thought something was up. He always kept an eye out on his friend in case he started using again.

"Yes," the detective said. "With a note. We wanted to see if you could open it."

Wham! Sherlock cried out as he went to flying to the floor. He glanced at his feet and realize he had tripped over a woman's hang bag.

"I'm sorry!" A woman shouted picking up her bag. "I didn't think it was in the walk way."

"Why must woman carry such big bags?" Sherlock demanded trying to get to his feet.

He reached his hand out blindly trying to find a surface to hold onto. His finger touched the edge of a desk. He couldn't see it but he could feel it. He felt someone standing next to him. He looked to his left and saw a hand reaching out to him. Anderson was standing just in his view trying to help him up.

"Give me your hand," Anderson said.

Sherlock growled. He really didn't want his help but he needed it. He ankle felt like he had twisted it. God. Could this get any worse?

"What happened?" Lestrade asked as Sherlock was helped to feet. "You've never tripped in here before?"

"Nothing," Sherlock grumbled. "....thank you...."

He knew Anderson was trying to help. Anderson was looking at him with a worried look. He glanced around the room. A few people he knew were looking at him with worried looks.

"Come on," Lestrade said nodding to his office. "I'll show you the box."

Sherlock knew why Lestrade really wanted him in the room. He wanted to talk to him. The box was the last thing on his mind.

The consulting detective carefully following Lestrade into the room. He quickly sat down across from the police officer. He was glad to get off his feet. 

"Are you alright?" Lestrade questioned. "You seem out of it. I've never seen you trip."

Sherlock considered lying. All he wanted was to take the box and leave. But he didn't see a point. Lestrade was going to tell John about the fall regardless.

"Sherlock..." he said gently. "I hate to ask...but..."

"I'm not using," Sherlock snapped. "I fell a few days ago. My vision has been fading since."

"You can't see?" Lestrade asked in a shocked voice. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"I can see," he sighed. "Just not very well."

"You need to see an eye doctor now," Lestrade said. "I'm taking you to Moorfields. I'll call a cab and the hospital so they know we're on our way."

Lestrade stood up and left the room.

"Shit," Sherlock said shaking his head.

There was no way he could keep it from John now. He had a slight injury to his eye and everyone was going to treat him like was dying.

Mrs. Hudson. He could text her and let her know he wouldn't be right back. He got out his phone and with a little effort texted her.

 **Won't be back for a few hours. Can you watch Rose until John gets back?**  
**SH**

Sherlock sighed and stared at him phone. He moved the phone to his left side. His good side. Mrs. Hudson had insisted on having a good "family" photo of John, Rosie, and him. She had placed it on the phone. Sherlock and John were sitting next to each other with young Rosie in his lap.

A stab of guilt suddenly hit him. What if he had done serious damage to his eyes? Was he going blind? He knew Rosie wasn't his real daughter. She was just his god daughter but seeing her smile made a little joy come to his life. What if he went blind all the way? What if never got better. He would never see it again. He would never see her face again.

What would John do? He wouldn't able to watch Rosie anymore. Who would watch her?

His phone suddenly beeped.

 **She is fine. Have fun with your case.**  
**Hudson**

Sherlock frowned. He wished he was having fun. The door to the office opened and Lestrade walked back in.

"They're expecting us," Greg said. "And they're aren't busy. Come on."

Sherlock knew he had no choice. He stood up and carefully followed Lestrade out of the room.

 

\---

The eye doctor was worse than the normal doctor. The woman had placed drops in his eyes. They stung as they went in. Sherlock growled and blinked his eyes.

"Sorry Mr. Holmes," the woman said. "Do your eyes hurt at all?"

"No," he explained.

"When did this start?" she asked prodding at his eyes with a tool.

"A few days ago," he explained. "I fell and hit my head."

"It looks like you detached your retina," she explained after a moment. "It's easy to fix."

"How long before my vision comes back?" he questioned.

"Could be as early as two weeks after the surgery," she explained. "I have to warn you Mr. Holmes that there may be permanent damage. It may never be what it was before."

Sherlock was afraid of that.

"I can schedule your surgery for tomorrow morning," she said. "It usually takes about two hours."

This was too much for him. He couldn't be blind. He relied on his vision too much! How could he work?

"I know this is a lot," she said. "But the sooner you get it done the better."

"Tomorrow," he said. "Tomorrow works."

The doctor left the room. Sherlock shook his head. He should have told John right away. He shouldn't have let it get so bad. He was so stupid sometimes. He sighed when he heard his phone buzz. He glanced at his messages.

 **Dear brother. Get the surgery.**  
**MH**

Sherlock ignored the message and tried to think of what he would tell John. No doubt he was in for a lecture. He reminded him so much of his own mother. Every time he would sneak out or disappear his mother would be supportive but deliver the most boring lectures.

The doctor entered the room after a few minutes.

"Tomorrow at nine," she said. "I gave your friend the card."

"Thanks," Sherlock said standing up.

"Do you need some help getting to the waiting room?" the doctor questioned.

"No," Sherlock snapped. "I can do it."

The doctor smiled and let him go out on his own. Sherlock was slightly surprised to see Lestrade still waiting for him. It was nice to know he had friends who stood by him no matter what dumb thing he did. But it always surprised him for some reason. It had for him to believe there were people out there who were willing to stand by him.

"I'll take you home," Lestrade said. "If you need someone to bring you tomorrow call me Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded as they headed outside to catch a cab home.

 


	4. Chapter 4

I went through and did a little editing here and there. His left side is supposed to be his good side and see I got that wrong somewhere.

I've installed Grammarly to help with spelling/grammar issues but I am still looking for a beta reader. If you would like to beta read this story and future ones please email me at wisteriascottdunham@gmail.com  
\---

John was home when he got there. Sherlock insisted on walking up the stair by himself. The doctor was sitting on the couch trying to get Rosie to sleep. She was crying and shaking her head.

She perked up when she saw Sherlock. She reached her arms out and cried.

"Ah!" she said.

Sherlock walked out and sat down next to them.

"Thank god," he said handing the child over. "She sure loves you."

"I'm just the one she sees the most," Sherlock explained cuddling the child close to his chest.

"Sherlock..." he said gently. "We need to talk. I know something is up with you."

"My eyes are messed up," Sherlock explained. "I need to have surgery tomorrow."

"I knew something was up," he said watching his child fall asleep. "What made you go to the doctor?"

"Lestrade," he said. "I tripped over something at the yard. He made me tell him what was wrong."

He moved his ankle a bit and found it didn't hurt. At least he didn't need to worry about that.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't see?" John questioned.

The lecture. Sherlock sighed and stood up.

"I'll put Rosie to bed," Sherlock said. "I think she's out."

"Sherlock..." John said in a firm voice. "I mean it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's taken care of," Sherlock said. "I'll have the stupid surgery tomorrow."

Sherlock stopped at the base of the stairs. He didn't dare carry her up the stairs. He couldn't see well enough.

"John," he said softly. "I can't..."

John knew how hard it was for his friend to ask for help. He knew Sherlock wanted to put Rosie to bed. It was something he did all the time.

He stood up and walked to the stair. He placed a hand on Sherlock's back and led him up the stairs. The two of them walked into John's room together.

He placed Rosie in her bed and covered up. The child gave a little whine. He quickly picked up her dragon stuffed animal and placed it against her. She relaxed against the toy.

"You aren't going to tell me are you?" John asked after helping his friend back down the stairs.

"Tell you what?" Sherlock asked as he headed towards his bed.

John heard him yelp as he bumped into the kitchen table.

"I'll take you to your appointment," John said. "I'll call work in the morning and tell them I have an emergency."

"Alright," was all Sherlock said before he went silent.

\--

The next morning John left Rosie with Mrs. Hudson and headed to the surgery with Sherlock. He could tell his friend was nervous. He staring out the window at nothing and biting his nails.

"Your vision should get better," John said. "It'll take a while but it should come back."

"I know that," Sherlock snapped. "I can still see a little. I looked up the surgery on my phone last night."

Even though it was hard to see the phone he had spent an hour reading about the surgery. He knew there was a chance it wouldn't work but it was a chance he had to take. He couldn't live his life with limited vision. 

\--

When they reached the hospital John was surprised to see Mycroft in the waiting room. He was speaking with a scared looking doctor. John hoped he wasn't giving the doctor a hard time.

"I hope you will take good care of my brother," Mycroft said.

"Of course," the doctor said. "Come along Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock frowned and carefully followed the doctor out of the room. The worried look was still on his face. John sighed deeply before sitting down.

"Must you make everything uncomfortable?" John asked looking up at the older man.

"I'm making sure things are taken care of," Mycroft said. "I've already spoken with Molly. She'll be checking in on him from time to time."

Molly? John had forgotten to tell Molly what was even going on. She worried if she didn't hear from Sherlock every few days.

"I can take care of him," John said. "I plan on taking some time off from work."

"Taking care of Sherlock is nearly impossible," Mycroft said. "You'll need all the help you can. Now, I must get going. I have a meeting."

John watched Mycroft leave the waiting room. For once he was sad to see him go. He was scared. He was worried about Sherlock. What if the surgery went wrong? What if he didn't recover his vision?

Sherlock had ignored the damage for so long. Why had he kept it a secret? Why was he was stubborn?

John leaned on his arm and tried not to worry. Mycroft had put the fear of God in the doctor. He would do his best. What if his best wasn't good enough. All he could do was hope.


	5. Chapter 5

The doctor claimed the surgery only took a little over two hours but to Sherlock, it felt an eternity. His vision was worse than ever. He was almost completely blind. What little that wasn't black was blurry.

The doctor claimed that Sherlock had the surgery in the nick of time.

"I know it seems worse," the doctor said. "The blurriness should clear up in a few days. Then your vision should return to you."

"Should?" Sherlock questioned. "I want the honest truth. What are the chances my vision will never be the same?"

"This kind of surgery is very successful," the doctor said. "Around ninety percent but I have to admit the damage was very bad with your eyes. I can't promise you that your vision will be perfect. This will help it though. I can promise you that."

Sherlock knew the doctor wasn't to blame. He was the only one to blame. He was the one that had let it go on. He should have told John the second he started seeing black dots.

"Depression is a common thing to have during this process. We'll give you a walking stick to help out," the doctor said. "Being able to find your own way around will help you feel less helpless. I'm sure your eyes are a bit sore. We'll give you something for that as well."

Helpless? He would never feel helpless.

"I'll take you out to your friend," the doctor said. "He's still in the waiting room."

Sherlock felt the doctor's hand on his arm. He helped him to his feet. He slid the walking stick into Sherlock's hand.

"The sooner you learn to use it the better," the doctor explained. "Walk forward and I'll get the door for you."

Sherlock and the doctor took their time walking out of the recovery room and into the waiting room. He didn't plan on using the walking stick anywhere but decided to humor the doctor.

\--

John must have fallen asleep during his wait. A wave of guilt hit him. How could he sleep at a time like that?

He was only awake a few minutes before Sherlock walked into the room. His heart sank further at the sight of him. His eyes were red and swollen. He was walking slowly and carefully with a white walking stick in front of him.

Sherlock could make out some shapes in front him. He knew John was sitting down in front of him. He could make out his form and he could smell him. John always bought the same products.

"I'll make an appointment for you next week," the doctor explained. "I'll want to check your eyes over and see if there is any improvement. I'll have the nurse bring you your pain medicine before you leave. Have a seat and I'm sure she'll be right with you."

John started to reach out a hand to help Sherlock into a chair before he stopped himself. He knew Sherlock would want to do it himself.

Sherlock took a step and felt around the base of the chair with his stick. He then leaned down and touched the arm. After a moment, he sat down.

"I don't want your pity," Sherlock said. "I can take care of myself."

"Molly, Mrs.Hudson and I are going to take care of you," John said. "There are some things you can do by yourself right away but there are some things that won't be so easy."

"I want to work on cases still," Sherlock said. "You can read me the info. Maybe I won't need my sight on some of them."

"Sherlock-" John started.

He wanted Sherlock to rest. The doctors wanted him to rest. His body didn't need the stress.

"Please John," came Sherlock's weak reply.

John sighed looking at his friend. He looked so helpless and depressed. There was no way he could deny him that one request.

"Oh course," he said. "I'll read them to you. I just don't want you reading. The stress won't be good for your eyes."

After a few minutes of silent waiting the nurse arrived with the medicine. She handed John the bottle and let the two of them leave.

Sherlock walked ahead of John feeling the way with his stick. There was no way he was going let them baby him. He could take care of himself.

 

\--

 

Sherlock was completely unwilling to go along with the new house rules. He wanted to be on his feet. He wanted to work on cases. He wanted to play his violin.

The only thing that brightened up his day was holding Rosie. She seemed to sense something was wrong. She often sat in his lap for hours without much complaint.

By the third day, Sherlock was ready to admit he needed a shower. He also knew that he was unable to do with on his own. His vision was still very cloudy and dark.

Sometimes he swore it was clearing up but he believed it to just be hopeful thinking.

So, how to get a shower? He wasn't asking Mrs. Hudson or Molly for help. John was his only option.

John had left him for a few moments to pay for their take away. He could hear him walking up the steps to their flat. He could hear the plastic bag rubbing against John's pants.

"Food is here," John said walking into the flat. "Is Rosie asleep yet?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Her breathing slowed down a little while ago. I assume she is asleep."

"I'll take her in a minute," John said walking past him into the kitchen.

John sat the food down on the kitchen table. He walked back into the living room and looked at Sherlock and Rosie. His young daughter was clinging to her god father's shirt and was sleeping deeply.

"Come on little one," John said picking up his daughter. "To bed with you."

John walked up stairs to tuck his daughter into bed. His little one was growing up so fast. He was so lucky he had Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, and Molly to help take care of her. She would always be surrounded by a loving family. He just wished Mary was there. At least Rosie was too young to remember her.

He decided it was best not to think about it. It always brought up feelings he didn't want to deal with. He quickly walked down stairs. Leaving Sherlock alone too long wasn't a good idea.

To his surprise, Sherlock was sitting in his chair waiting patiently for his dinner.

"John," he said. "I need a shower."

"Perhaps a bath would be a better idea," John said removing the Chinese food from the bags. "I could leave you alone then. A shower would be trickier. I'll help you after dinner."

Sherlock nodded. He was grateful he had John there to help him. Yet, the fact he needed that kind of help killed him a little bit inside.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm headed off to camp tomorrow and I won't be back until late Sunday. So the next chapter will either be later tonight or late Sunday night. I'm busy packing today but I'll do the best I can :)

 

\----

Sherlock took his time eating even though he didn't eat that much. John could tell he was putting off taking his bath He didn't say anything about it. His friend was allowed to feel ashamed and embarrassed about his situation. He had the right to feel any way he wanted.

"I'm done," Sherlock said standing up. "I'll wait in the bathroom."

Sherlock stood and took his stick in hand. He carefully moved around the table and headed down the hallway.

John pushed his plate away. It was hard to have an appetite when Sherlock was so depressed. He waited a minute before following after his friend.

He walked into find Sherlock leaning against the sink.

"How do you like your water?" John asked kneeling next to the tub.

"Warm," Sherlock said a bit snappy.

John ignored it as he turned on the water. He adjusted it until it felt comfortable.

"I'll help you get in," John explained. "Then I'll leave you if you want. If you need me you can call me. I should help wash your hair. You don't want you to get soap in your eyes."

"Sounds fine," Sherlock said.

Sherlock quickly undressed letting his clothes fall to the floor. He allowed John to take his hand and help him into the tub.

John quickly found the soap and a clean flannel. He made sure they were in Sherlock's reach.

"Call me when you want your hair washed," John said before walking out of the bathroom.

He made sure to leave the door ajar as he went back to the kitchen. The left over food needed to be put away. He knew Sherlock would eat it later or the next day.

It didn't take long to clean up the food. He had just sat down when he heard Sherlock calling him. He quickly got to his feet. He grabbed a cup from the kitchen and rushed into the bathroom.

Sherlock was lying out in the tub with his head lying on the edge of the tub.

"Hair," Sherlock said closing his eyes.

John grabbed Sherlock's shampoo and knelt down next to the tub. He dipped the cup into the water and filled it. He carefully poured it over Sherlock's head. He didn't want to get anything in his friend's eyes.

He opened the bottle of shampoo and squeezed a little out onto one hand. He sat the bottle down before gently applied the sticky substance to his friend's hair.

Sherlock seemed to relax under his touch. All his tensions and worries disappeared as John ran his fingers through his hair. The smell of mint filled the small bathroom.

John took his time winding his fingers through the slightly curly hair. Sherlock wasn't complaining. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Your check up is tomorrow," John explained. "The doctor texted me earlier. I really need to go to work tomorrow. Is it alright if Molly takes you?"

"What's the point?" Sherlock asked with a snort. "It isn't getting any better."

"They need to check on your eyes," the good doctor said flushing the shampoo from Sherlock's hair.

"What if it doesn't get better?" Sherlock asked.

John took a deep breath and set the cup down on the edge of the tub.

"If it doesn't get better we'll figure out how to live with it," John said. "You're already doing a lot better."

We? That word made Sherlock feel hopeful. John wasn't going to leave him. He would be there to support him and help take care of him. Sherlock didn't want to be a burden but it did feel nice to know he wouldn't be alone. Of course, he wasn't going to admit that out loud.

"Come on," John said standing up. "The water is starting to get cold."

John grabbed a towel with one hand and helped Sherlock out of the tub with the other hand. He put the towel around Sherlock's shoulders before draining the tub. Sherlock carefully dried himself.

Seeing Sherlock naked wasn't a big shock to the doctor. He was used to it. He had treated Sherlock for a few injuries that required him to strip down.

"I'll get your clothes," John said.

He walked into Sherlock's bedroom and quickly grabbed some pajamas for Sherlock. He walked back into the bathroom to find Sherlock trying to brush his teeth.

He didn't seem to be having a hard time. He was putting toothpaste on the brush. He tried to set the tub back on the sink but missed. The tub fell to the floor with a thud.

It pained John to watch. He wanted to step in and help but he knew he shouldn't. Sherlock hadn't asked for help. Sherlock quickly brushed his teeth before dropping his tooth brush in the sink.

"Do you want to get dressed by yourself?" John questioned.

"Yes," Sherlock said holding out his hands.

Normally, Sherlock was able to get dressed by himself. Sometimes buttons gave him a little trouble but he could manage.

"Call me if you need me," John said. "I need to go speak with Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock simply nodded before John left the room.

\--

Sherlock growled setting the pajamas on the floor. He could see the outline of the hamper. He opened it and pulled out his clothes from earlier. He quickly dressed himself the best he could. He needed to hurry before John got back.

He picked up his stick and carefully made his way through the flat. He was relieved to see John wasn't anywhere in sight. He put on his shoes and jacket. He didn't bother to try and tie his shoes. He couldn't see well enough to do it.

He went as fast and carefully as he could down the steps. He stepped out into the night. A light rain was starting to fall down from the sky. He wasted no time flagging down a cab. He was going to Scotland Yard. He needed to work. If he couldn't work he wasn't worth anything.

\--

"I don't know," John said opening the door to Mrs. Hudson's flat. "Am I doing this right?"

"You're doing the best you can," Mrs. Hudson said leaning against the door frame. "Sherlock has been through something very traumatic. I'm sure he's just scared."

"Thank you, Mrs.Hudson. I don't know what I would do without you," he said. "I need to go check on him. I've left him alone too long."

"Good luck," Mrs. Hudson before closing the door.

John climbed the stairs back up to the flat. To his surprise the door was open. He had made sure to shut it. He rushed into the flat and began to look for Sherlock.

Of course, there was no sign of him. His shoes and coat were gone. No doubt he had seen his chance and taken it. John quickly took out his phone and sent a text to Lestrade.

**Sherlock is missing. I'm sure he is headed your way.**   
**JW**

John stood in the middle of his sitting room in a panic. What was he supposed to do? Call Mycroft? No, Sherlock would kill him. A few moments later his phone beeped. He looked down at the phone.

**I was just headed home but I'll stay in case he shows up.**   
**GL**

John quickly sent a text thanking him. He just hoped Sherlock was alright.

\--

Sherlock walked into Scotland Yard. Due to the late hour, there weren't that many people around. Using his walking stick he made his way to Lestrade's office. He could see out of the left side of his eyes but it was still pretty blurry.

"Sherlock?" came Anderson's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Lestrade," he said. "Is he here?"

"In his office," he said. "Need some help getting there?"

"No," Sherlock said shaking his head. "I'm fine."

It took a little effort but Sherlock did make it to his office. He knocked on the door.

"Come in Sherlock," Lestrade's voice came.

John. No doubt his friend had called looking for him. He opened the door and walked inside.

"What are you doing here?" Lestrade questioned. "You should be at home."

"I need to work," Sherlock said. "You know I need this."

Sherlock carefully sat down across from his friend. He needed something to keep his mind busy.

"Sherlock...you're....right now you...," Lestrade said unable to find the right words.

"I can't see perfectly right now," he said. "I can't see half of this room and the other half is blurry. That doesn't mean I'm helpless."

"I didn't say you were," Greg said. "Your eyes need to rest. What happens if you fall again before your eyes are healed? It could do even more damage."

Sherlock didn't want to admit it but he knew his friend was right.

"Another week," Lestrade said. "I'll drop by some case files in another week."

A week? Didn't Lestrade understand a week to him was an eternity? He would never make it that long.

"I know this is hard for you," Greg said. "I'm just trying to do what is best for you."

Best for me? Sherlock growled and jumped to his feet. He was sick of everyone trying to do what was "best" for him. Did anyone ask what he wanted? Did anyone ask what would help him? No! They decided for themselves.

"I don't need your help!" he shouted banging his hand on the desk.

Lestrade jumped at the sudden noise. It wasn't like Sherlock explode like that.

"I know you are under a lot of stress right now," Lestrade said. "So I am willing to forget that outburst. You need to go home. I'm willing to work with you but I will NOT let you get yourself hurt."

"See if I come running the next time you need me," Sherlock said before walking out of the office.

He didn't mean it of course. He would never leave Lestrade without anyone to turn to. He walked across the room feeling with his stick.

He couldn't stop his whole body from shaking from anger. He hated them all. They were all treating him like he was dying. He wasn't dying. He was just recovering from surgery. That's all.

He was at the entrance to Scotland Yard when he felt something brush into him on his bad side.

"Excuse me," he said softly.

"Sherlock," John's voice filled his ears.

He turned his head and eyes so that he could see the blurry outline of his friend.

"What were you thinking?" John asked. "You can't work right now."

"I can do what I want," Sherlock said pushing past his friend.

He didn't need him. He didn't need anyone.

He stepped out into the rainy night and started walking. He didn't know where he was going and he didn't care.

"Sherlock!" John shouted as he ran to keep up with him.

"Go home John," Sherlock said. "I can take care of myself."

John didn't say anything else but Sherlock could feel him walking behind him. He could hear his footsteps in the puddles.

Sherlock stopped and stood still on the pavement. He knew sooner or later he would have to cross the road. He wasn't sure he could do that alone. Besides the rain was coming down heavily and soaking his clothes.

"Sherlock please," John said reaching his side. "Come home. This is silly."

"I can't live the rest of my life like this," Sherlock admitted. "I can't be helpless."

"You have to give your eyes time to heal," John said. "I know waiting is hard but you need to. Then....only then can we see how bad the damage is."

"I should have told you," Sherlock said. "I should have seen a doctor sooner."

"You aren't to blame for that," John said. "I should have noticed you were hurt. I should have insisted on you seeing a doctor. I know how you are."

John looked around and was glad for the late hour. There didn't seem to be many people out and no one seemed interested in Sherlock.

"No," he said shaking his head. "Stop making excuses for me. I ignored the damage. I knew it was bad."

"If you knew why didn't you do something sooner?" John questioned even though he guessed he knew the answer. "Why didn't you get help?"

"I was scared John," Sherlock admitted. "I was scared of the damage being permeant. I wanted to pretend it would go away."

John felt a stab at his heart. He knew it took a lot for Sherlock to admit he was scared. He knew it was killing him to admit it.

"It's alright to be scared," John said placing a hand on his friend's arm. "I'd be scared if I was you. It's a scary thing you're going through but you aren't going through it alone."

"I can't live like this," Sherlock said. "I can't."

John's medical instinct kicked in. Was Sherlock threatening suicide if his vision didn't return? It sure sounded like it.

"Give it time," John said. "You see the doctor tomorrow. Wait and see what he says. There are lots of blind people who live full lives. Even if you have limited vision you can still live a happy life. Life will still be worth living."

Sherlock felt incredibly guilty. His best friend was trying to help him and he was hinting at suicide. He doubted he could really do it. He couldn't die again. He knew John wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Please come home," John insisted. "We're both soaking wet."

Sherlock nodded. Enough was enough. He was wet, tired, and depressed. He just wanted to go home.

\--

THe next morning Sherlock was surprised to find that he wasn't alone. John was fast asleep next to him. Little Rosie was curled up between them.

Sherlock was sure he had fallen asleep alone the night before. The young child gave a loud yawn and stretched her tiny little arms.

"Papa!" she said reaching her hands up.

That caused Sherlock's heart to jump. She said Papa to him. It was her first word and she was calling him Papa.

"John!" he cried without thinking.

John yawned and blinked his eyes a few times.

"What's wrong?" he questioned.

"She said her first word," Sherlock said.

"Oh my god," John said smiling. "I'm so proud of my big girl. What did she say?"

Sherlock didn't know if he should tell him the truth. His daughter called another man Papa. Wouldn't that hurt him?

"Sherlock," John said suddenly frowning. "What did she say?"

"Papa," Sherlock said. "She called me Papa."

"That's great!" John said kissing his daughter. "How about a Dada for me."

Rosie giggled but said nothing more. Sherlock couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why wasn't John upset?

"You aren't upset?" Sherlock questioned.

"Why would I be?" he questioned. "I used to call my god father Poppy until he died. It's pretty normal for kids to call their god parents something."

Sherlock looked down at the smiling little girl. Papa. He could get used to that.

Rosie curled up against her god father.

"How did you two get down here?" Sherlock said.

"Rosie wouldn't fall asleep," John explained. "I tried for ages. I thought maybe she'd fall asleep easier near you."

"I like it that it worked," Sherlock said.

"Oh yes," John said opening his eyes. "Worked like a charm."

John smiled looking at Sherlock and Rosie. The two of them looked so perfect together. The young child was looking up at Sherlock with a look of admiration. For a second everything seemed perfect.

Then John remembered. His friend couldn't see him or the child next to him. He frowned and looked away. It felt wrong to enjoy the moment when Sherlock couldn't.

Suddenly he heard laughing. He looked back at his daughter and friend. Rosie was holding the edge of Sherlock's nose and his friend was laughing. It was the first time he'd heard Sherlock laugh in a long time.

Rosie let go of his nose and crawled down to attach his shirt. Without realizing what he was doing John slid closer to his friend.

The doctor found himself looking into Sherlock's eyes. He noticed his eyes weren't focusing on him. They were off to the side. John wondered if he could actually see anything over there.

John would blame the closeness of the moment for what he did next. He leaned in a pushed his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock jumped at the touch but didn't pull back. He allowed John to press their lips together. His tongue gently rubbed over Sherlock's lips but didn't try to go inside.

After a moment, he pulled back.

"I..." John said before getting out of the bed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I'll take Rosie to get dressed. I'll come back for you in a minute."

Sherlock gasp as Rosie was removed from his body. He heard John quickly run out of the room. One minute he was kissing John and the next he was all alone.

He reached around for his stick and was unable to locate it. He had left it leaning against the wall next to his bed. Chances were it had fallen onto the floor. He couldn't find it on his own.

He laid back down on the bed and took a deep breath.

What in the world was happening?


	7. Chapter 7

I now have the best, and most patient beta in the world. Shouts out to Drakion. I know I’m a hard person to beta for.

\--

 

John felt horrible about what he'd done. He taken advantage of the situation. Sherlock was relying on him; he needed him to take care of him. Sherlock didn't need him to molest him. 

The doctor carried Rosie upstairs, and changed her into a new outfit. It was only when he placed her in the playpen downstairs that he realized he had forgotten all about Sherlock.

He had forced himself on Sherlock, and then left him alone in bed. Poor Sherlock had been left in there for at least fifteen minutes. What if he couldn’t reach his walking cane? Sherlock couldn't even get up without his walking stick. He wouldn't be able to find his way around the flat without it.

John quickly rushed back into Sherlock's bedroom, and found Sherlock lying pathetically on his side in his bed. Sherlock’s cloudy eye seemed to stare at nothing in particular, while his good eye flicked quickly to John’s face.

"I'm sorry," John said, before hurriedly fetching Sherlock's stick from the floor with slightly trembling fingers.

Sherlock said nothing as he calmly took the stick. The detective silently allowed John to help him dress, brush his teeth, and use the toilet. He didn't know what to say to his friend; there were too many things to say, and he couldn’t choose any of them.

Sherlock couldn’t place all the feelings going through him in that moment, there had never been so many to sort through all at once. He had liked the kiss, it had shocked him, but John’s lips were chapped and gentle even with the hastily landed peck. It had left him feeling dizzy even when John bustled out of the room, but as he was left alone the only thing that followed was the feeling of confusion uncertainty.

"Are you alright?" John asked quietly, as Sherlock sat down at the table for his breakfast. 

He looked down at his breakfast with his good eye. Even though it was fuzzy he could see it. A plate of steaming sausage, pancakes, and eggs, with a cup of thin brown morning tea, which sloshed as the detective settled heavily into his chair.

"Yes," Sherlock said shortly, breaking the awkward silence held between them.

"I'm so sorry about what I did," John explained, aggressively cutting up Sherlock's pancakes. "I was completely out of line."

"It's alright," Sherlock said quietly, slowly eating his breakfast.

"No," John said shaking his head. "I was completely out of line."

"What if I didn't mind?" Sherlock questioned shyly, turning his head to look up/across at John, his gaze pitifully off center.

"That isn't the point-" John started loudly.

“What is the point then?” Sherlock demanded frustratedly.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” the doctor argued. “I’m not supposed to molest you, and then leave you all alone!” 

“You kissed me,” Sherlock said faintly. “You didn’t rape me.”

"Good morning," Molly's nervous voice silenced the kitchen.

John looked over to an embarrassed Molly, looking at them nervously. Sherlock quickly turned his full attention to trying to eat his breakfast. John wondered how long she had been standing there, listening to them. God only knows what she thought was going on.

 

\----

 

Molly didn’t know what to say to Sherlock, as he climbed in her car, and they rode to see the ophthalmologist. She had no idea what John and Sherlock had been talking about, but it seemed really personal. It sounded like John had overstepped some personal lines.

Sherlock wasn’t interested in talking about it either. He kept his face turned to look blankly out of the window. He couldn't see much, but it felt nice to be out of their flat.

When they reached the office, Molly quietly sat down in the waiting area. Sherlock didn't need to sit down, he would be quickly taken back to an examination room anyway.

 

\----

"So, Mr. Holmes," the doctor said. "My name is Rodger Clayen. I have your files from the eye hospital.

"Hello," Sherlock said, trying valiantly to be polite.

"How are your eyes feeling?" The doctor questioned, picking up a small light.

"Fine," Sherlock said shortly. "They don't hurt, but everything is still very blurry."

"Alright," The doctor said carefully, peering in to Sherlock’s icy eyes with a nearly blinding light. "I'll see if I can't help you with that. Has any of the blackness cleared up?"

"No," Sherlock said shortly. "I still can't see out of my right eye."

"Alright," the doctor said, putting down the tool. "We're going try something."

Sherlock jumped a little when he felt something large and cold being pressed against his face.

"Sorry," Dr. Clayen said. "I should have warned you. I'm going to flip through a few things. Just tell me if the image clears up."

Sherlock sighed as the image in front of him changed from blurry to extremely blurry.

"Worse," Sherlock grumbled.

"How about this?" the doctor asked, spinning the tool in his hand. 

Suddenly a picture became clear in front of him. Half was still black but the other half was clear. Sherlock could make out a picture of a cat. It was actually better than his vision before the surgery.

"There!" he yelled suddenly, making the doctor jump.

"Good," the doctor said, pulling the machine back. "You’ll need glasses. I think you're stressing out your eyes, and making the healing process take longer. If we give you glasses, your eyes will have a chance to rest and heal."

Sherlock panicked, even a trace of fear flickered across his face at his own thoughts. What if he needed glasses forever? What if his surgeon had messed up the surgery?

“Will I need them forever?” Sherlock found himself asking, without really thinking about it consciously.

“I don’t know,” the eye doctor said. “Hopefully not, but did you have any eye trouble before the incident?”

“Not at all,” Sherlock said with a haughty snort.

“Then I hope it goes back to normal,” the doctor said. “It’s a bit hard to predict what will happen with this sort of thing.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but feel guilty. Why had he needed to been so stubborn? Why had he let his fear control him? He should have just went to the bloody doctor in the first place. He might need glasses forever because of his stupidity.

"Does the color or shape matter?" the doctor asked.

"No," Sherlock said, blowing a rapid breath out through his nose.

"I'll have someone take you to get your eyes measured, and then we'll order you a pair," the doctor said. "We do same day service here, so do you mind waiting an hour or so?"

"My brother's been here hasn't he?" Sherlock asked with a humorless chuckle. "Don't knock yourself out to take care of him. My brother will receive a good report."

"Thank you Mr. Holmes," Dr. Clayen said. "I have in fact spoken to your brother. I only suggest same day service when I think it is a medical need. In your case I think your eyes run a serious risk if they’re stressed. I would hate to see a patient suffer when there is something I can do."

"Molly is waiting for me," Sherlock explained. "I don't know if she can wait that long."

"I'll find out," the doctor said. "Are you alright to wait here a second?"

"Of course," Sherlock said with a huff. "I can't go anywhere anyway."

The doctor nodded, even though Sherlock couldn't see it, and smoothly stood up. He quietly left the room, closing the door gently on his way out.

 

\--

 

John couldn't believe what he had done, and it haunted him the rest of the day. After he dropped Rosie off with Mrs. Hudson, he headed to work.

He tried to focus on his patients, but even after multiple cups of staggeringly strong black coffee he still couldn't. All he could think about was the kiss, and what Sherlock had said. 

_What if I really didn't mind?_

Sherlock's words attached themselves to his brain. _He didn't mind._ Did that mean he actually liked it? Or did he mean that he just wasn’t upset?

It was during lunch hour that John got the visit he was expecting. The door to his office opened without a word. An umbrella peaked through the widening gap, until its owner sauntered in behind it. Closing the door quietly behind himself, Mycroft spoke.

"Hello John," he said smoothly. "How have you been?"

"Fine," John said, needlessly rearranging papers.

"I know something happened this morning," Mycroft said, sitting down across from him. "Molly texted, and said that Sherlock was out of sorts. Care to fill me in on why?"

"That is between Sherlock and me," John said, looking the taller man straight in the eyes. "If we want you to know, we will tell you."

"I'm warning you John," Mycroft said coldly. "Sherlock is my brother. I won't see him hurt."

"If you were so concerned about your brother where were you last night?" John asked, getting to his feet. "Sherlock took off, and I had to go chase after him. He even talked about killing himself. I didn't see you, and your ever watching eye then." John added emphasis to the last word, still glaring at the man ahead of him.

Mycroft’s eyes were filled with hardly contained rage. No doubt he wasn't used to people talking back to him in this disrespectful manner.

"I'm the one there brushing his hair," John said. "I'm the one cutting up his food. I'm taking care of him. I expected that you, or even god forbid your parents, would show up to lend a hand every so often, but no. Apparently that isn’t the case, apparently it’s too low of a job even for his deeply caring brother." Now, John’s hands were flashing through the air agitated, stopping to rest for a moment, before fidgeting excitedly again.

"I understand you are under stress, but I am not a man you want to make angry," Mycroft warned, standing up to his full height as well. "Don't think for a second I'm not looking out for my brother."

"I kissed him Mycroft," John said abruptly. "That's all. I guess it surprised him. I'm going to talk to him about later. Now get out of my office before I lose my patience."

To his surprise, Mycroft only gave him a look that gave away nothing, and walked out of the office without another word.

 

\--

 

When John returned home, he was surprised to see Sherlock watching the telly. He refused to even listen to it the last few days, he claimed it was teasing him. Then John noticed the glasses sitting on Sherlock's face. Sitting high on his rounded nose was a pair of silver wire glasses, with squarish frames.

He had young Rosie in his arms; and she had a fabric booklet in her tiny hands, and was looking at the pictures. 

"They gave you glasses?" John asked, happy to note that Sherlock didn’t jump when he approached to get a better look.

"Yes," Sherlock said, still watching the television. "They help with the blurriness."

"I take it you made Molly leave you alone," John said, wandering into the kitchen.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "I can take care of myself now. She left some Thai food takeout in the refrigerator."

John opened the door and was happy to see the food. He was just about to call for take away, Good ol’ Molly. He was glad to see Sherlock could see better, but he knew it was far from perfect. He would still need help around the house whether he liked it or not.

"Sherlock-" John said, closing the fridge door.

"It was just a kiss," Sherlock said. "We don't need to go on about it."

John walked back into the sitting room and sat next to Sherlock. He made sure to sit on his good side.

"I need to tell you why I did it," the doctor replied.

"Fine," Sherlock said, curious. "Go ahead."

Rosie cried out suddenly, and reached out for her father. John carefully took the child into his arms, and the fabric book fell to the floor in the process. John took a moment to settle, before handing it back to her.

"You and Rosie just looked so cute," John said. "We were lying in the bed together like a real little family. I know Rosie isn't your child, but you've raised her like your own. You've done more than I can ask for. I don't know, It just felt..."

"Right," Sherlock finished quietly. "It felt right. I guess that's why it didn't bother me."

"That doesn't mean it was right," John said "I shouldn't have pushed myself on you. I took ad-"

John didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. He gasped in shock when he felt Sherlock lean in close to him, his formally bright eyes regaining some of their brilliant shine behind his glasses. The taller man closed the distance between them, and pressed his plush pink lips to his best friend’s chapped lips.

"Uh!" Rosie cried, watching the two of them with curiosity.

Sherlock didn't hold the kiss very long, and left it at a gentle brush of their lips. He pulled back and looked away timidly, his hand clenching the edge of his suit, which suddenly seemed chokingly tight around the collar.

"What are we doing?" John asked, a smile growing quickly on his lips. Sherlock wanted to kiss them again.

"Must we label it?" Sherlock said. "You kissed me because it felt right. I kissed you because it felt right."

“Fine,” John said. “I’m not interested in dating other people. I know you aren’t. So I guess we’ll just see what happens between the two of us.”

Sherlock simply nodded, giving the doctor a bit of a small smile.

“Well,” John said. “Now that we have that out of the way, there is something else we need to speak about.”

“What else?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

John’s brain was screaming at him to point out how cute Sherlock looked in his glasses; but he held it back.

Sherlock couldn’t think of anything else they needed to discuss.

“We need to talk about what you said last night,” John explained. “About…”

John stopped himself, he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t think about losing Sherlock again, that would be too painful.

“Oh,” Sherlock said, realizing what John was referring too and shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry for even thinking it.”

“No,” John said, his voice trembling. “If that is how you felt I want you to tell me. Holding it in only leads to… problems. If you ever think about…suicide, please come to me. I’ll _always_ be there to help.”

“I was overwhelmed,” the raven haired man said. “I promise I won’t ever do anything like that.”

“Alright,” John said, standing up with Rosie held snuggly in his arms. “Do you want some food?”

“No thanks,” Sherlock said. “Maybe later.”

John nodded, and walked back into the kitchen. He was desperately hungry, and he was sure Rosie needed dinner as well.

 

\--

 

Over the next week Sherlock became used to falling asleep alone, and waking up with John. Sometimes, young Rosie was curled up between them, but usually it was just the two of them. The doctor seemed shy about crawling into bed with him when he was still awake, but Sherlock said nothing about it. He didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable.

A week? Didn’t that mean he could go back to work? Lestrade had only demanded he take a week off. Now that the week was up, he wasn’t sure if he was ready, after only a little, if any, of his vision had returned.

He still struggled to navigate because of his blacked out right side, so what good would he be on a case? Maybe he just needed to face it, he was doomed to be nothing but a bum who sat around at home doing nothing with his life. All he could do was washing, child care, and seeing to making meals.

Sherlock loved Rosie and he loved caring for her, but he didn’t think that would be enough for him. If he couldn’t do cases he would inevitably get back into drugs, just to feel high. He would disappoint Mycroft, and Lestrade, and… and John.

He lay in bed thinking about it, with John lying next to him, when he heard a light knocking on his bedroom door.

“Sherlock?” came Lestrade’s gruff voice through the wood. “Mrs. Hudson let me in, today’s the big day. Time to get back to work!”

“Come in,” Sherlock said with a yawn.

He didn’t feel like getting out of bed, unless it was a good case. Getting out of bed was an awkward ordeal and he still had to get dressed anyway. As much as he tried, he still couldn’t do it on his own.

It was only when he heard the twist of the knob that he remembered John. He looked over at the sleeping doctor. He didn’t have to go into work today and Sherlock didn’t want to see him woken up.

“It’s worth the trip,” Lestrade said. “We think that puzzle box is attached to two recent murders.”

“Sounds interesting,” Sherlock said. “Help me find my stick. I think it’s fallen again.”

It was only when Lestrade walked fully into the room that he noticed John. The sleeping man had his face smushed into the pillow. One arm was thrown over his head, and the other was just barely touching Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Um…” the detective inspector said. “I didn’t realize John was in here.”

“Oh yes,” Sherlock said looking in his general area. “Don’t wake him. He has the day off.”

Lestrade found Sherlock’s walking stick and handed it to him. He continued to glance at John the whole time, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of relationship the two of them had together. He couldn’t imagine Sherlock being intimate with anyone…well anyone besides John perhaps.

“You said the puzzle box is connected to the murders?” Sherlock asked, standing up. “How so?”

“We found two dead women in a flat in London,” Lestrade explained. “They had professional pictures of the box in their bedroom.”

“Interesting,” Sherlock said, his curiosity flaring to life. “Perhaps a cult. I’ll be right with you Lestrade. Your case is worth my attention. Give me the address and I’ll follow in a cab.”

“Alright,” Lestrade said. “I’ll text it.”

The detective inspector pulled out his phone and quickly sent the text. He put his phone back in his pocket and continued to look at Sherlock and John. He smiled and gave his head a little shake. The two of them seemed happy. There was no need to make a big deal out of it.

“See you in a bit then,” Lestrade said before leaving the bedroom.

Sherlock decided he would dress himself that morning. There was no way he could return to work if he couldn’t dress himself. He started to move away from the bed. He stopped a few steps away and then returned to John’s side. He quickly placed a small kiss on the top of John’s head.

The doctor mumbled something that Sherlock couldn’t make out in his sleep, and Sherlock smiled slightly before returning to getting dressed.

He had a crime to solve.


	8. Chapter 8

The case was an interesting one. Sherlock had a feeling he was going to have to open the puzzle box to figure it all out. There were clues about the women at the crime scene, but nothing that would lead him to their murderer. They were simply two college students living together, one of them was probably just there at the wrong place and time. He found their school schedule and found nothing out of the ordinary with the subjects.

They seemed so normal: messy bedrooms, junk food in the kitchen, sex toys under the bed, etc. maybe just a bit too normal. Something about it was putting Sherlock off. Something just didn’t feel right. Even the pictures of the puzzle box in the bedroom didn’t stand out; there were piles of photos of random objects. The older girl, Sandra, was heavily into photography. There was no telling when or where she had a chance to take the photos.

“I need the puzzle box,” Sherlock said, walking up to Lestrade. “I need to solve it.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Lestrade said. “I have it with me. Our best men have looked at it and no one can figure it out. I’m hoping you can get into it, but I’ll understand if you can’t. Maybe once your eyes recover you’ll be able to.”

“Best not to wait on that,” Sherlock said. “Who knows if, or when it’ll happen.”

Lestrade frowned, it was so strange to see Sherlock the way he was. He was wearing glasses and carrying his white cane. He didn’t run anymore, he took all his steps carefully and slowly. If his vision didn’t return he would never return to his life of chasing criminals through the dark alleys of London.

Perhaps it was for the best. It wasn’t the best life to lead, he knew that all too well. Yet, Lestrade was scared of what would happen if Sherlock wasn’t able to keep himself busy.

“Box,” Sherlock said, walking up to his side.

He held out his left hand. Lestrade pulled out a small square box, and placed it in Sherlock’s open hand. Sherlock frowned as he hold it up. He noticed it was rather plain, it was just a simple brown box with three buttons on the front and gold hinges on the back.

“Each button plays the same song,” Lestrade explained. “We’ve tried pushing them in every order. We x-rayed it and can’t find anything unusual. It just looks like a normal music box. The note that came with it made it clear we were supposed to open it.”

“Just what did the note say?” Sherlock questioned in an inquisitive voice.

“Solve the puzzle and you’ll have the key,” Lestrade explained. “I must have read it a thousand times.”

Sherlock smirked as he thought over the words in his head. As usual the professional had messed up once again. According to Lestrade’s own words the letter didn’t say anything about actually opening the box.

“I’ll figure it out,” Sherlock said, slipping the box into his pocket. “Don’t worry about that.”

As he tried to walk past, Lestrade put a hand on the detective’s arm. Sherlock stopped walking, and glanced down at the offending hand.

“Take it easy,” Lestrade said in a stern voice. “Don’t stress out over this.”

“I can take care of myself,” Sherlock said, before pulling free of Lestrade’s hold.

He was back to work. He might not be able to see very well but he could hear. Perhaps the key to unlocking the mystery of the box lay in the music that it played.

-

When John awoke, he was nervous to find the bed empty. He had gotten used to Sherlock waking up before him. He got to his feet and walked out of the bedroom. To his surprise the flat was empty and quiet. He went up his bedroom to change into some clean clothes. Rosie’s bed was empty, no doubt Mrs. Hudson had stolen the child.

John went downstairs to look for his phone, she always sent him a text whenever she took Rosie.

He unlocked his phone and looked at his messages. There was a message from Mrs. Hudson and one from Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson had indeed sent a message saying that she had taken Rosie to her flat, Sherlock had run off with Lestrade to work on a case.

Yes. It was the day that Sherlock could return to work. John knew his friend could see much better with his glasses, but he hoped Sherlock didn’t overdo it on his first day back to work.

John wanted to take Rosie for her first trip to the mall, and he was going to take Sherlock as well. They needed a nice family day out; it felt so nice when the three of them were together. They actually felt like a family. As much as he hated to admit it, even his days with Mary hadn’t been this happy. He quickly pushed the thought from his head. _No_. That was wrong to think. He had lost his wife, the mother to his child, he wasn’t supposed to think that way.

The doctor tried to clear his mind of that awful thought, Christmas was only a month away. He needed to focus on making his daughter’s first Christmas special. He didn’t need to worry about the past.

He walked down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat and knocked on the door.

A glance around the flat found Mrs. Hudson in the sitting room with Rosie. She was helping the young child stack blocks. She had no problem sitting up and crawling but the little one was yet to take a step, so instead she was sitting down to play with the blocks.

“Hello dear,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Sherlock is off with Lestrade. I guess he’s back to work.”

“I guess so,” John said, attending to breakfast.

“Are you planning to let Rosie have run of your room?” Mrs. Hudson questioned.

Oh yes. He knew there was no way he could slip anything past Mr. Hudson. No doubt she had noticed he no longer slept in his bedroom.

“I suppose,” he said putting on the coffee. “I guess you noticed huh?”

“I check on Rosie every night,” she said. “I noticed this week she was alone.”

He noticed she was smiling at him, and he scratched at his neck while looking away from her. Thank god she wasn’t making a show out of it.

“I need to talk to Sherlock first,” John said. “I have to make sure it’s alright with him.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Hudson said, with her sweet little laugh.

“Dada!” Rosie cried, finally noticing her father.

She gave an impatient whine, and lifted her hands high in the air. John didn’t say anything as he picked up his daughter. He held her close to his chest and kissed the top of her head. Sometimes he forgot how lucky he was to have her.

“That’s my girl,” he said gently after a moment. “I knew you could do it.”

“Papa?” she asked looking around with curious eyes.

“No Papa right now,” he said. “Maybe later.”

Rosie apparently didn’t like that answer. His little one began to pout, and her eyes filled with tears before her lower lip began to quiver.

“Oh darling,” he said, gently bouncing her. “Don’t cry. Papa will be home soon. Let’s get you dressed to go out.”

Rosie began to laugh and smile again. She seemed to forget she was missing Sherlock at all.

“Thank you for watching her Mrs. Hudson,” he said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Don’t worry about it John,” she said, picking up the blocks. “I’m always here to help.”

Mrs. Hudson knew John was under a lot of stress. He was trying to deal with his own issues, raise a daughter, and take care of his half blind friend. It was a lot for anyone to handle. She gave John a comforting pat on the shoulder before he left her flat.

\--

Sherlock was anxious to get home and figure out the box. He knew the box was only a small part of a bigger picture, but he doubted the box even opened, perhaps the hinges weren’t even real.

He walked up to his flat with a hop in his step. He easily climbed the all too familiar staircase, and walked into the sitting room. Rosie and John were sitting on the couch. John was trying to get her to put on her coat, and she wasn’t having it. She was crying and shaking her head, weakly hitting John’s arm.

“Come on Rosie,” John begged in a tired voice. “Please put on your jacket.”

“Papa!” she cried, twisting away from him.

Sherlock removed the box from his pocket, and placed it on one of the high book shelves. He didn’t want Rosie getting a hold of it.

“What’s all the noise about?” he questioned.

“Papa!” Rosie cried turning her attention towards her godfather.

“Thank god,” the doctor said gasping for air. “I never thought you’d get home.”

“Where are you two headed?” Sherlock questioned.

“I was hoping to take her to the mall,” John explained, as Rosie finally let him put the coat on.

“Adventurous trip to take with a little one,” he said, dropping into his chair.

“It is getting close to Christmas,” the doctor said zipping up her jacket. “I thought it would be fun.”

Sherlock didn’t like the idea at all, He’d been avoiding crowded places since his accident. He was sure his current health was in the newspapers, he’d avoided reading the news just for that reason. If he went out in a large place like that, people would stare, they would take photos.

He wanted his eyes to get better. He wanted to move on with his life and forget it ever happened. How could he forget it there were countless pictures available on the internet taken by nosy fans?

“What’s wrong?” John asked, in almost a whisper when he saw the worried look on Sherlock’s face.

“Why not somewhere quieter?” he asked. “Like the library perhaps?”

John nodded and got to his feet. He could tell the idea of going to the mall really bothered Sherlock, and he could guess why. His image was very important and he didn’t want to be seen as a half blind, helpless man.

“That sounds wonderful,” John said softly. “It is time for my little one to get her first library card. Can you hold her while I get my things in order?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said, holding his arms out for Rosie.

John slipped the child into his arms, before heading off to get ready himself.

\--

The library was the better choice. It was almost empty due to it being a weekday. Poor little Rosie was fast asleep by time they returned to the flat. John walked off upstairs, and put her down for a nap. Sherlock felt like taking a nap himself, that was a strange thing for him. Ever since he got hurt he had spent a lot of time lying around.

He couldn’t wait until his vision returned, he was getting slow due to all the rest. He couldn’t afford to get slow. What would happen when his vision returned? It would take him too long to get back in shape again. Despite his urge to stay awake, Sherlock felt his eyes closing.

“Hello dear brother,” that low cynical voice filled the silence of the flat. “How are you doing?”

“I was going to sleep,” Sherlock explained, opening his good eye. “Again you spoil something for me.”

“Yes,” Mycroft said, leaning on his umbrella slightly. “I’ve seen you’ve had a busy day.”

“What do you want?” the younger brother asked, closing his eye again.

“Can’t I come check on my favorite brother?” Mycroft asked, with a sarcastic twist to his words.

“What do you _want_ Mycroft?” Sherlock questioned in an irritated voice.

“I simply wanted to know if there was something I could do to help,” Mycroft answered, trying and failing to sound friendly. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Sherlock said shortly.

“Fine,” Mycroft said. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

As soon as he heard Mycroft start to walk away, Sherlock thought of something he could do. Something that would make him feel a lot better.

“Wait,” Sherlock shouted, making Mycroft stop in his tracks.

Sherlock opened his eyes and moved to the edge of the couch. The detective laid on his front and rested his head on his elbows. He looked up at Mycroft with his good eye while his bad drifted off to the right. Mycroft frowned at the sight. He knew Sherlock wasn’t making progress fast enough. At this rate his dear brother was going to be half blind forever. He had phone calls to make.

“Yes?” Mycroft asked, trying to not to be annoyed. He knew whatever Sherlock had to say was going to test his nerves, he could just feel it.

“Thank John for taking care of me,” Sherlock demanded, in a sweet voice.

“What?” Mycroft demanded with a sneer.

“Thank… John…. for…. taking… care…. of…. me,” Sherlock repeated, slowly putting emphasis on each word to further infuriate his brother.

Mycroft’s lip twisted up in disgust, he knew it wasn’t asking too much but for some reason the thought of thanking John disgusted him. John was a doctor after all, he liked this kind of thing.

“Fine,” Mycroft said reluctantly.

John tucked Rosie into her bed and then spent a few minutes cleaning up around her room. Her. Was it really just her room? After all, he didn’t spend much time there.

He walked downstairs with a small load of laundry in his arms. Mycroft was the first thing he saw, and he gave him a weak smile before setting the basket down on the floor.

“John,” Mycroft said in a forced voice. “I wanted to…thank you…for looking after my brother.”

John stared, a shocked look coming over his face. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Mycroft was thanking him. Mycroft Bloody Holmes was thanking him. He was almost at a loss for words.

“You’re welcome,” John said, in a shocked voice.

Mycroft turned his head to look at his little brother. The man had a smug look on his face, smug or not it was still the happiest Mycroft had seen him in weeks.

“Take care brother,” Mycroft said dryly, before walking out of the room.

Sherlock closed his eyes, and rested his head on one of the throw pillows. Life did have its little joys after all.

\--

The next two days were a bore fest: John had to return to work due to an outbreak of flu, he was getting nowhere with the box any time fast; he had tried to figure out the melody to no avail. It was must be a little known song to elude him. He searched heavily over the internet and local small stores, no one had seen anything like the box before.

Rosie was even gone, Molly had insisted on taking her for the night. The flat was so empty without her, so quiet. He could hear everything, the drip of the leaky bathroom faucet, the hum of the heating, the sound of the next door neighbors sexual escapades…

That was enough. He couldn’t take it.

He dressed in more relaxed clothes, a pair of track pants, a heavy green sweater, and a light coat. He avoided looking at their family photo on the mantel, before he left the flat. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs in her flat cleaning, he could hear the vacuum cleaner running. He was supposed to let her know whenever he went out.

Sherlock ignored that rule as he stepped out into the chill night air, he knew where he was going. He knew what he needed. He couldn’t figure out his case, Rosie wasn’t in the house, John was at work, and he was bored and frustrated.

Without thinking about it, Sherlock found himself heading to the bad side of town. He needed his fix, and he needed it right away.

His mind was screaming at him with each step.

_Don’t! Call someone!_

Sherlock pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind as he walked. The shame and guilt built with each step, and by the time he reached his old haunt he was almost on the verge of tears. Why was he doing this? He couldn’t do this his whole life. What if Rosie found out about his drug use when she was older? What if she turned to drugs to deal with her life? That would kill him.

He opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of filth hit him as soon as he stepped inside, the place was in worse shape than he remembered.

He started climbing the old rickety staircase. Each step felt like the worst step he had ever taken, and when he reached the top of the stairs he stopped. Just ahead of him was a door. Behind that door would be Wiggins, or one of his druggie friends. They would set him up for a fair price. There would be no going back once he stepped into that door.

He dropped to the floor, and pulled his knees to his chest. He flipped up his hood and curled up as tightly as he could. The floor was freezing even though his clothes.

_He had no idea what to do_.

Sherlock opened his phone, and looked down at the photo of the three of them, John, Rosie, and him. There was no way he could let them down, John would never forgive him. If Rosie ever found out, she would think less of him, but worst of all he would be disappointed in himself.

Despite all this, he knew he wasn’t going to move. He was going to sit there until he figured out what to do.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

I had a little writer’s block with this one. I wasn’t sure of how cruel I wanted to be to Sherlock. This chapter is going to be a bit emotional, and deals with Sherlock’s relationship with his parents. I didn’t like the introduction of Eurus, (She is my least favorite character in Sherlock Holmes history) but I know she is part of the BBC story now. I will use her very lightly.

\--

Sherlock didn’t how long he sat on that cold landing. Minutes? Hours? He dug out his phone and looked at the clock. It was a little past eight at night. John would already be home. John would notice he was missing. Would John be angry with him? Would he even look for him?

Sherlock felt like he had already gone too far. If he returned home John wouldn’t believe he hadn’t used anything. He would make him get drug tested. At least the test would come back negative, but would cause a rift between them, Sherlock knew it would.

Either way, he was going to have to face the music. He knew if he stepped through that door and bought drugs he would be in much more trouble than if he went home clean.

He felt like he was a teenager again, trying to decide just how much trouble he was willing to get himself into, but he felt much more fear than he ever felt as a child. He didn’t care that much if he disappointed his parents. They offered to get him help with the drugs, and they were always there to listen, but they didn’t really worry about him. At least not the same way John worried about him. John actually cared if he lived or died. He knew he was going to get a lecture from John, but he knew it was for the right reasons. John _actually_ cared, and he just wasn’t playing a role.

Maybe that was the real reason he had walked out of his flat and headed for that drug den, he wanted to know that John really cared about him.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He knew John cared. John was the only standing by his side. He was the one helping him dress, and bathe, and then made sure he ate. His own family wasn’t there; perhaps that was what was really bothering him. The fact that his parents weren’t there.

He knew that if Rosie was in an accident, and was half blinded, he would be there by her side and she wasn’t even his real child. Why hadn’t his parents visited him or even called? No doubt they knew about it. Mycroft wouldn’t have been able to resist telling Mother, and it was all over the news. There was no way to avoid it.

Why did it bother him so much? Why did he care? If they didn’t want to visit him while he was hurt, why would he want them?

_Because they are your parents. You love them._

Sherlock growled and scratched at the side of his head with his hand, as if he was trying to physical force the thought from his head.

Was that the real reason he was sitting in that drug dean? Did it even have anything to do with his urge to escape reality, or was he trying to bait his parents with the knowledge he was on the edge of a relapse?

_Stupid!_

His mind went back to the Christmas spent with his parents and his friends when dear Mary was still alive. Why had they invited them all there? Were they were really worried about him, or were they just trying to impress others by pretending to be a loving family?

Sherlock knew taking drugs wasn’t going to help him. It was just going to make everything worse.

With a little effort, Sherlock stood up, and carefully made his way down the stairs. His body was stiff and hurt from sitting on the floor for so long, but he still planned to walk home. It would take a while, but it would give him a chance to get his head together and figure out what he was going to tell John.

\--

John came home to an empty and silent flat. He wasn’t surprised to see Sherlock gone, after all he had a case to busy his mind with. It didn’t seem he was making any progress with it though. He hoped his friend didn’t get too frustrated with it. An unsolvable case was Sherlock’s biggest fear.

He ordered enough Chinese food for the two of them, and settled down to watch a movie. Shortly after the food arrived he heard footsteps on the landing.

“Sherlock?” John called. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” came a muffled reply.

It didn’t sound like a normal Sherlock at all. He sounded weak and broken down. The man in question walked into looking rather bedraggled, and John frowned at the selection of clothes. The only time Sherlock dressed like that was when he was in low class neighborhoods.

He prayed it was for the case he was working on. He didn’t want to think for a second that Sherlock had returned to those dirty dens of sin he liked to frequent from time to time.

Sherlock knew the look on his face as soon as he saw it, it was the look of worry and disappointment. He knew he had to explain himself. If it came out he was in a drug house and he didn’t tell John about it beforehand, it would destroy the trust between them.

“I have to be honest,” Sherlock said. “I….didn’t use anything. I swear to it, and I’ll take a drug test to prove it. But I did go to a drug house.”

John didn’t say anything, but he just hung his head and shook it slowly. He didn’t know how to feel at all. He was angry Sherlock had gone to such a place, but he was happy he hadn’t used. He had managed to talk himself out of it, that was a good thing. It was actually impressive considering who he was talking about.

“Sit,” John said sternly, nodding at the couch.

The detective said nothing as he sat down. He knew was going to get a lecture, and he knew the best thing to do when John gave him one. He was supposed to listen and not interrupt. It was best to just let John vent his feelings and thoughts.

“Why?” John asked.

He wasn’t shouting or demanding an answer, he simply was simply asking. He needed to know what had drove Sherlock to almost use again.

“I’m grateful for you John,” Sherlock admitted. “You know that. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there to help me.”

John felt his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He had no idea what Sherlock was trying to say.

“But it shouldn’t have been your job,” he continued. “People who should have stepped up didn’t.”

Suddenly John understood what Sherlock was trying to say. He was upset his parents hadn’t visited him, or showed in interest in him. He didn’t need to say it, John had learned to read through the lines. He knew his friend well enough to know what he was saying.

“Sherlock,” John said, putting a comforting arm around him. “Come here.”

John pulled his friend in close, letting Sherlock’s head rest on his chest. He carefully placed his own head against his friend’s, and he could feel Sherlock’s soft curls tickling his nose. He was trying to think of something comforting to say to his friend. He knew how painful it was not to have a good relationship with one’s parents. He wished he knew how to comfort Sherlock.

It was when he was digging through his thoughts that it hit him. He _was_ comforting Sherlock. The silent embrace was doing more than his words ever could. Was that all his friend needed, a hug? That thought only caused John to hold on tighter.

Even though it was an uncomfortable position, John held himself there until Sherlock was ready to pull away. His friend was going through something very rough, and John needed to be there for him. After a while, he felt Sherlock gently pulling away.

“I need to work on the box,” the detective said. “I think I have an idea.”

John gave a little smile. Sherlock had received the emotional support he needed, and was ready to carry on with his life. John hoped he would be there the next time Sherlock needed it, or the alternative would be dire.

\--

To John’s surprise, Sherlock turned his full attention to the box, he was filled with such enthusiasm. It seemed John’s ability to comfort him had done a lot of good. It had cleared his mind.

Sherlock sat down with the box in the middle of the living room. He had a pile of blank sheet music next to him, and a pen in his hand. He was clearly trying to pen the music to paper. He kept playing the tune over and over.

It quickly began to drive John insane. He took his phone into Sherlock’s bedroom. He needed to touch base with Mycroft, he knew Sherlock wouldn’t like it but he felt it had to be done.

**Does your mother know Sherlock is injured?**

JW

He waited patiently for a reply. He needed to know if Sherlock’s parents knew about his injury and were just ignoring it, or if they just didn’t know. His phone gave a beep.

**Mother and Father are in Japan. They went to Disneyland in Tokyo. They go every year.**

MH

John couldn’t control his rage. Sherlock’s parents were on vacation in a different country. There was no way they could know about Sherlock’s injury unless they were told.

**Give me their number. Now!**

JW

To his surprise Mycroft texted him back a phone number. He had never called either one of Sherlock’s parents before, but he knew he had to do it. Sherlock was suffering. He thought his parents didn’t care, and it turned out they didn’t even know he was hurt.

John pushed into the numbers and waited for an answer. To his happy surprise a woman picked up rather quickly.

“Hello,” a soft female voice answered. “You’ve reached Mallory Holmes.”

“Mrs. Holmes,” John said. “It’s John Watson. I have something that we need to talk about.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Notes : Sorry about the delay with this chapter. I’m trying to add a chapter every other day or so but sometimes I am unable to do so. I’ve been using my daughter’s computer for a while now. I got a new laptop and it took forever to transfer all of my stuff.

I am also getting my child and myself ready for the school season. I plan to keep writing fanfiction despite this. It’s my vice. It’s how I relieve stress. I will still take request for TMNT and Sherlock fanfiction and keep updating my current stories. I hope to keep updates at 2+ chapters a week. Thank you for being understanding.

\--

Over the phone John briefly explained to Mrs. Holmes what had happened. The elderly woman was shocked her oldest son hadn’t called her; in fact, she seemed disgusted by the idea. After she promised that her and her husband would catch the next plane out of Japan, John hung up the phone.

He walked into the sitting room to find Sherlock still converting the music to sheet music. It seemed a hard task for even the skilled musician. Perhaps only having one eye was slowing him down a bit.

“Almost done,” Sherlock said distractedly, stacking the papers. “I just need to figure out what the song is. Once I figure that out I can see what notes were changed from the originals. It must be a code of some sort.”

“How about dinner and then bed after you’re done?” John questioned in a motherly way. “You’ve had a stressful day.”

Sherlock frowned at John’s words. He really wanted to figure out what the original song was, but he knew John wasn’t going to allow that. He didn’t normally eat or sleep during cases, but this time it was different. He was still healing, and if he stressed out his body too much his vision might never come back.

“Fine,” Sherlock conceded, “but only because I’m healing.”

“I’ll make you a plate,” John said, thankful Sherlock wasn’t going to put up a fight.

\--

Sherlock was true to his word. He ate his food, took a shower on his own, brushed his teeth, and dressed for bed. John was actually impressed by how cooperative Sherlock was being. John felt a little awkward as he headed into Sherlock’s…. no their bedroom. Why was he skating around it? His things weren’t in there yet, but they were sharing a bed. It was their bedroom. He crawled in under the sheets next to Sherlock.

Even though the lights were all off in the flat the room was still pretty bright. The lights from the city and the moon filled the room with a light glow. Sherlock was lying with his back to him, but John knew he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too rapid and he was moving too much.

“Sherlock?” John whispered. “Do you want me to leave? You seem a bit nervous.”

“No,” Sherlock said sharply. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Sherlock rolled onto his side to face him, and before John had time to say or do anything Sherlock leaned in and kissed him. It had been a while since they had kissed, but you have never known it. John quickly relaxed into him and allowed Sherlock to take the lead. Sherlock’s mouth was open and his tongue was gently running over John’s dry lips.

When they had to break away for air John let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Sherlock’s lips were slightly swollen and looked so tempting.

“Sherlock,” he said, still short on air. “I need to ask you something.”

“What?” Sherlock said, sounding confused.

“Have you ever…done this before?” the doctor quested saying his words slowly. “I mean…have you ever been intimate with someone before?”

Sherlock knew the subject was bound to come up. Eurus believed that he had been sexually intimate before, but she was wrong. Perhaps she had only said it to get a rise out of him or embarrass him, either way it wasn’t true.

“No,” he answered simply. “I’ve kissed men and women, but nothing more than that.”

“Do you want more than that?” John asked, desperate to hear the right answer.

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered in response. “I think…I think I would like that.”

“Will you let me try something?”

“I guess,” Sherlock said, with his voice shaking slightly.

John’s hands’ trembled slightly as he slid the blanket down off his friend. He had always prided himself on being a lady’s man; so the idea of engaging in sexual activity with a man was a little intimidating.

This isn’t just any man, this is Sherlock.

John carefully slid down Sherlock’s pajama bottom to his knees. The thin material was the only thing separating him from his friend’s manhood. With it removed he could see Sherlock in all his glory. His erection wasn’t hard, but it still looked impressive resting against his body.

“Do you have any lotion?” John questioned.

“You aren’t going to-“ Sherlock started in surprised voice.

“No,” the doctor said with a chuckle. “No. You aren’t ready for that. It’ll just make the touching easier.”

Sherlock nodded his head towards his bedroom side table, so John leaned over him and started digging through it. The drawer was littered with all kinds of bits of and bobs, but John did find a barely used bottle of hand lotion.

John squeezed a little on his hand, before tossing the bottle to the mattress. He carefully wrapped a hand around Sherlock’s length, and Sherlock gasped at the gentle touch. It wasn’t like him to masturbate.

“If you need me to stop just say “Red”,” John instructed. “If you want me to slow down just say “Yellow”.”

“Fine,” Sherlock said lowly, grinding into John’s hand.

John slowly moved his hand up and down the length. Sherlock closed both eyes and began to let out tiny whimpers. At first he tried to hold in the noises but quickly the noises became louder and more breathless.

Sherlock knew he didn’t need to hold back with John. He knew his friend wouldn’t mock him, he wouldn’t tease him, and he wouldn’t laugh at him.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt his whole body tense up. Intense waves of pleasure washed over him. His was surprised by the suddenness and intensity of it, and before he knew what was happening he had ejaculated in John’s hand.

“Let me get a flannel,” John said, before crawling out of the bed.

The detective was sitting panting when John returned with a wet flannel. He carefully cleaned Sherlock off, before throwing the dirty ruined flannel into the laundry hamper.

“Are you alright?” John asked worriedly. “You haven’t said a word.”

“Just enjoying it,” Sherlock explained, crawling back under the blanket.

John smiled when he saw how limp Sherlock was. The man hadn’t even bothered to pull his pajama bottoms back on. John fetched them from under the blankets and tossed them to the floor, before he crawled back under the blankets to join his best friend. Sherlock pulled him in close without a word, and John nuzzled into the taller man’s chest.

Quickly sleep took them both.

 

\--

Mallory couldn’t believe what she had heard. Her son was half blind from an injury and her older son hadn’t bothered to call her. She had half a mind to give that boy as serious walloping when she got home. He knew they wouldn’t be in the country for several weeks. His decision had caused his little brother to suffer. Oh, she would be having words with him.

She told her husband, Tim, what was going on and booked seats on the next flight out of Japan. Of course, she did stop to pick the Japanese candy that Sherlock loved so much .That would make him feel better.

It was hard being a parent to three children that were so difficult. Sherlock was the one who gave her the least amount of trouble, but She’d been very shocked to find his drug stash when he was fifteen. She was thankful that Sherlock always taken her help when she offered it, if he didn’t who knew what would have happened. She was an intelligent woman, and she knew it wasn’t something he could just give up and never think about again. She knew how hard it was for him.

Eurus struggled with mental health problems no one could fix, but she tried to see her as much as she could. She wanted her daughter to know she loved her, and would always be there to try to help.

In his own way Mycroft was the hardest child to deal with. He was unwilling to accept help for anything, thought he knew everything, and wanted control over everything. That made him nearly impossible to work with. His desire to have a job in the government was just part of his desire for control.

Mallory had no idea why her children were that way. She didn’t suffer from any of the issues her children did, at least she didn’t believe she did. Her husband was a very sound person. He was patient and understanding with the children. He would lose his temper from time to time, every parent did, but he never struck his children; neither of them did.

Did they give them enough love? Mallory sure hoped they did, and she believed they did. She always hugged and kissed her little ones, but she knew there was more to it than that.

She and her husband failed them where it really mattered. The little things didn’t matter when someone looked at the big picture. When Sherlock’s friend went missing she should have put him in therapy. When Eurus was sent away she should have had Sherlock and Mycroft evaluated. She’d had them evaluated in the past but not for trauma issues. They thought pretending it never happened was the best choice, of course, they were wrong. She was wrong.

She could blame Sherlock’s strange behavior and habits on that trauma, but not Mycroft’s behavior. He was the way he was long before Eurus was born.

Where had she gone wrong with him? She doubted she would ever get an answer.

“Don’t blame yourself,” her husband said, placing a hand on hers. “We weren’t perfect but we did what we thought was best.”

“How did you know?” she questioned in a soft voice.

“I can tell when you’re worried about the kids,” he explained with a chuckle. “You always get the same look on your face.”

“Sherlock doesn’t think we care,” She said. “We must have done something to make him think that.”

“I think Mycroft put that idea in his head,” Tim said with scuff.

Why? Why was Mycroft so full of hate?

“Thank heavens for John,” Tim said trying to change the subject. “We wouldn’t have enough known if he hadn’t called us. We’ll have to find a way to show him how grateful we are.”

Mallory nodded in agreement. She was sorry she hadn’t thought to give John their number, in case anything ever happened.

“What if it’s permanent?” she questioned. “We can’t expect John to take care of him forever.”

“I think those two have a _unique_ relationship,” Tim said. “They look after each other in their own ways.”

Mallory knew her husband was right, and that she didn’t need to worry. Things would work out. The most important thing right now was seeing her son, and letting him know how much he was loved.

\--

_Notes: I know I’m making Mallory seem like the perfect parent but hang with it a bit. I won’t say too much but let’s just say Mallory wasn’t the saint that she remembers being._


	11. Chapter 11

John didn’t know how to feel about what had happened. Part of him knew that Sherlock had enjoyed what had happened, they both had. Yet, part of him still felt something was off. This intimate relationship started because Sherlock was injured. His friend believed his parents didn’t care about him and had abandoned him in his moment of need. John knew that wasn’t true, but Sherlock didn’t. His friend came to him for emotional support and he had jumped on it.

He felt like was taking full advantage of the situation. He knew Sherlock was happy with their relationship, but that didn’t make his actions right. Once Sherlock’s parents came to visit he would feel better or at least he thought he would.

When John woke up the next morning he found himself in bed alone. A glance at his phone told him that Sherlock had left to work on his puzzle box case. There was another message from Molly telling him she would drop Rosie off after lunch. He climbed out of bed and tried to clear his mind.

_You did nothing wrong._

He made a cup of tea before settling down in his chair. It felt so strange so in the flat all by himself. It was too quiet, and too peaceful. Part of John wanted to enjoy it, because it wasn’t very often that John got any peace and quiet. The other part was too busy worrying about Sherlock to enjoy it.

\---

Mycroft couldn’t believe John. Who did he think he was getting involved in family affairs? He had no right to make demands. Mycroft didn’t even know why he had given him his mother’s phone number. Mycroft knew that John wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted, the man could be just as stubborn as his brother when he wanted to be. Sherlock didn’t need their parents around, it wouldn’t do any good. It would only cause more trouble.

If John knew what kind of people they were he wouldn’t want them around either. Perhaps he should just tell John why he didn’t want them around, but he didn’t think he could do that. He couldn’t put himself through that pain again.

He would do what he always did. He would watch from the shadows and make sure they didn’t do any damage. Even if John and Sherlock didn’t know it or believe it, he really was looking out for his younger brother. He never wanted Sherlock to go through anything like what he had to go through. He would do anything to prevent that.

\--

Sherlock took off early the next morning. He had appointments that he needed to keep, but he grumbled as he climbed out of bed. When he opened his eyes to take in the room he was shocked to find a little light leaking into his bad eye. It was slight, but it was something.

Sherlock found his glasses and slipped them on his face. With his glasses on he could see a lot better in his good eye, however his bad eye didn’t get any better, just that little sliver of light. Part of him wanted to wake John up, and tell him, but he decided against it. It was just a little light, and he didn’t want to get his or John’s hopes up. It was important to carry on as planned.

He took a cab to his first appointment, a seeing-eye dog center. He was going to pick up his new seeing-eye dog. He hadn’t discussed it with John, Mrs. Hudson or anyone for that matter. He knew they would help take care of him, but he needed to be able to be independent. A dog would help that.

He had called the center a few days ago and explained what was going on. At first they told him it would be several weeks before he could get a dog. Sherlock accepted that and placed his name on a waiting list. After only an hour they had called him back and explained that it would be much sooner.

Mycroft. Sometimes Sherlock wondered how he managed to have his fingers in so many biscuit jars at once.

“How can I help you?” a kind woman asked she he walked up to the front desk.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he answered in a shaky voice. “I have an appointment with Mrs. Watton.”

“Oh yes,” she said looking down at her computer. “If you will take a seat she’ll be right with you.”

Sherlock took a nervous seat in the waiting room. He leaned his walking stick against the wall. This was taking a big step, a dog was a lifelong commitment. He always wanted a dog but...he never got to have one. For so long he remembered having one but it was a lie. A false memory. He shook his head, trying to shake that thought from his head. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Thanks Mummy,” a little girl’s happy voice filled the room.

Sherlock looked to see a young girl walking into the room. She was leading a large golden retriever. The dog stopped walking when she stopped walking. Her mother smiled and knelt down next to her, and she pulled her child in for a hug before the three of them walked out.

They looked so happy together. A happy little family.

“Mr. Holmes!” a female voice called. “You’re next.”

Sherlock took his stick in hand walked over to the woman waving him into a back room.

“I’m glad we were able to find a match for you so soon,” she said leading into a room that looked like it was meant for conferences. “We needed to find a dog that was already in a home with children. I think any dog would have be fine, but I wanted to make sure everything was just as you requested.”

Sherlock had made it clear that his god daughter’s safety was the most important thing. She was too small to have a large animal jumping all over her. He already didn’t know how well John would handle having a dog in the house. He didn’t seem to like Toby when he met him and he was the perfect dog.

“I think Zorro will be the perfect fit,” she said. “You’ll take him home with you today if you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he said resolutely, even though he wasn’t sure he was.

“Have a seat if you want,” she said. “I’ll go fetch him.”

Mrs. Watton walked through a different door leaving him alone. Sherlock couldn’t sit down, he was too overwhelmed by the situation to sit. He was accepting the fact he was going to have vision trouble the rest of his life. He wished he had John with him to comfort him.

Before much time had passed Mrs. Watton was walking back into the room with his new dog in tow. He was a black Labrador retriever wearing a white harness. Mrs. Watton walked to the dog over to stand next to Sherlock.

“Take a second to get to know him. He seems interested in you. Let him know he belongs to you now,” Mrs. Watton said in an encouraging voice.

Sherlock leaned his walking stick against the wall and knelt down in front of the dog. The solid black dog looked at him with wide eyes. Large pools of brown looked back at Sherlock. They were soft, warm, and welcoming, and Sherlock felt the urge to reach out and touch the animal. Sherlock slowly stuck out a hand to gently touch the creature’s head. The fur was soft under his fingertips.

“Hello Zorro,” he said softly. “Ready to come lend me a hand?”

The dog twisted his head to the side as he listened to Sherlock’s voice. Satisfied with the animal, Sherlock stood up and forced his attention back on Mrs. Watton.

“We will be mailing you all his paperwork,” she said. “Anytime you need to travel or stay in a hotel just bring his paperwork. Most businesses are usually very friendly to people using service dogs.”

The woman pressed the handle of the harness into Sherlock’s hands. His long fingers curled around the metal. It felt cold in his hands. Part of him wanted to drop the offending object and run from the room, but he knew he had no choice. He wanted to be independent and the dog was the way to do it.

“We’ll send an agent to your home next week,” she explained. “Just to check in and see if there is anything we can do to help.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, as the dog turned his attention to him.

Mrs. Watton wasn’t put off by Sherlock’s attitude for several reasons. The first being she knew who she was talking to, the second reason was because she saw it every day. She watched people who were struggling to accept their vision loss finally come to terms with their disability. Sherlock Holmes was no different.

“If you have any questions or needs please call us,” she said, before opening the door to the waiting room. “I do wish you the best of luck.”

Sherlock needed to go shopping for his new pet, he had two more appointments to get to but he didn’t want to go. He just wanted to back home and crawl into bed. He would curl up next to John, and his new dog, and pretend the outside word didn’t exist.

 

\--

I want anyone to know this chapter almost didn’t make it. I thought it was awful. My beta Drakion really helped me see the value in my writing **.** If you like this chapter please thank them for it because I almost deleted it. (Sorry Drakion I used “them” because I forgot to ask your pronoun preference. I’m a little on the numb side. Sorry!)


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the delay in posting this. I had a family emergency that will be popping up again.

\---

Mallory Holmes couldn’t believe her husband. They should have already been in London! They missed their connecting flight due to her husband’s wolf like appetite, but after explaining their situation to the airport they placed them on the next flight.

If her husband didn’t hurry they would miss that flight as well. He was walking towards her with his rolling suitcase in one hand and a half eaten biscuit in the other.

“I swear Tim if we miss this plane I’m going to divorce you!” she yelled angrily.

Tim quickly shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and hurried to catch up with his wife. Mallory let out a sigh of relief when the two of them finally boarded the plane.

“Thank heavens,” she said taking a seat.

“Sorry love,” he apologized, putting away his luggage.

Mallory knew she wasn’t really angry with his husband. He was always doing this kind of thing, and she had gotten used to it. She was just frustrated with the whole situation. She wanted to get to London and see her children. Tim frowned and sat down next to her.

“We’re going to talk to Mycroft,” he said, placing a hand on hers. “We’re going to tell him that his behavior was unacceptable. We’ll see Sherlock and show him how much we care. Don’t let this eat you up.”

Mallory was doing her best not to dwell on it, but she couldn’t stop it. She simply nodded and leaned against the window. She just wanted to sleep. If she slept they would get there faster. Her husband seemed to understand and left her alone.

\--

Mallory knew something was wrong with her son. Mycroft hadn’t been himself for weeks. Her son had always been a lighter eater, but suddenly he began to eat much more. At first Mallory was happy that her son had finally developed a healthy appetite. Then she started finding empty bags of candies and other goodies under his bed. There was nothing healthy about that. She tried to talk to him but he refused to even talk to her. He would make casual conversation but he wouldn’t speak of his troubles. He stopped wanting to go to school and his grades began slip. The five year old seemed to be in the midst of a serious depression.

Mallory couldn’t imagine what could have caused the sudden change in her son. Nothing out of the normal had happened to him. His teachers hadn’t called in to report any cases of bullying or trouble in school. She was at a loss to explain what was happening to him.

Finally, after a month of watching her son suffer Mallory cornered him while he was reading a book in the living room. She sat down on the couch next to him.

“Mycroft,” she said gently. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” he asked, sounding confused. “I’m going to clean my room later.”

“No,” she said softly. “I want to talk to you about what’s going on with you lately.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, still looking at his book.

“Something is bothering you,” she said moving a little closer to him. “I can tell. I need to tell me what’s going on.”

Her son took a deep breath and closed his book, then he placed the book in his lap and held onto it tightly.

“You can tell Mummy anything,” she said softly. “I want you to know that.”

“I’m just sad,” he admitted.

Progress! She’d gotten a little information out of him. She waited for him to continue and when he didn’t she pressed the issue.

“What are you sad about?” she asked.

Mycroft fell silent again looking away from her, and out one of the windows that overlooked the garden. Her son’s face looked so full of pain. She’d never seen him so sad.

“Someone did something,” he admitted still staring off at nothing.

“What?” she said shocked. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

Mycroft fell silent once again. Mallory moved to kneel on the floor. She lifted her hands and took Mycroft’s face into them. She turned the boy’s head gently so he was looking at her in the eye, so she could see tears were pooling in the corner of his eyes.

“If someone hurt you then you have to tell me,” she said. “I won’t stand by and see you hurt.”

“Never mind,” Mycroft said, suddenly pulling away from his mother.

Mallory’s heart sank when she felt her son slip out of her arms. He curled up into a ball and pretended to read his book. She would have to try to get through to him again later.

\---

Sherlock knew he’d acted unfairly. He had no right to get the seeing-eye dog without talking to John and Mrs. Hudson. John was his friend, roommate, and lover, and he had a right to have some say in the decision. Then there was Mrs. Hudson. She was his landlady, she owned his home. He really should have went to her and asked her for permission. He knew she would say “yes” but it was the principal of the matter.

Yet, he hadn’t done that. He snuck behind their backs and got the dog first. He wished it hadn’t been so rushed, but at the time it felt right. He got the idea into his head and called the center. He hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. He hoped to have time to talk to them about it but the whole matter had gotten rammed through, no doubt Mycroft had something to do with it.

As Sherlock walked down the street he began to regret his decision. Sometimes people stared at him because of the walking stick but the stares were limited, but with Zorro it was a different case, everyone seemed to be looking at him.

He stopped by a higher end pet store and picked out some healthy looking dog food, a dog bed, and some bowls. He arranged for the items to be delivered to the flat. He hoped he would beat the items home. He could just imagine the confused look on John’s face as he opened a box of pet items.

Then Sherlock headed to his meeting with a music specialist. The gentleman had a large interest in little known songs, and Sherlock really hoped the man could help him out. When Sherlock reached the man’s office he found him out. It turned out he had a family emergency. He decided not to complain, and left the sheet music with the lady behind the front desk.

His last stop before going home was Scotland Yard. Lestrade hadn’t calling him in on a single case and he was getting tired of it. The puzzle box was one thing, but there had to be murders he wasn’t letting him in on. Everyone was treating him like he couldn’t do anything, and he was determined to prove they were wrong.

\--

 

John felt his worry lighten up when Molly walked into the room carrying little Rosie in her arms. He had taken the opportunity to clean the flat up. Since Sherlock’s accident he had been very good about keeping the flat clean but there was always something that needed to be done.

He had no idea when Sherlock’s parents would arrive. They hadn’t contacted him again and he knew it a was long flight and that international flights often ran into delays. He just wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He wanted them to know Sherlock was in good hands.

“Dada!” Rosie cried, reaching out for her father.

“Hi there little one,” he said, taking the child into his arms. “Were you a good girl?”

“She was amazing,” Molly said taking off her scarf. “She’s very quiet. She never cries unless something is wrong.”

“Thank you Molly,” he said gratefully. “You have no idea how helpful you are.”

“Well you need all the help you can get right now,” she said. “I’ve drove Sherlock to one of his eye appointments and I’ve known him for years. I know how difficult he can be.”

“He’s actually doing very well,” John said, knowing he was seriously stretching the truth. “He wears his glasses, walks with his stick, and keeps the flat pretty clean. I know he is struggling with it but overall he’s doing great.”

“Don’t lie,” Molly said in sly voice. “I know it isn’t as good as that.”

“Sherlock is a proud man,” John said. “I can only expect so much from him. He does the best he can.”

Molly frowned and looked thoughtful for a moment. It looked as if she wanted to say something but unsure of how to say it. John was about to ask her what was on her mind when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Come on,” Sherlock’s voice came through the door. “This door.”

John frowned when he heard, what sounded like, a dog walking around. What the hell was Sherlock up to?

 


	13. Chapter 13

John couldn’t believe Sherlock. The man was always doing things without thinking them over. Molly quickly hurried out of the flat when she saw the annoyed look on John’s face.

As soon as Sherlock removed the harness from the dog he began to sniff his away around the flat. John watched with disgust as the dog sniffed his shoe.

Fur. This long-haired dog was going to shed everyone and John would be responsible for cleaning it up. What happened when Sherlock lost interest in the dog? Who was going to brush it, feed it, and take it to the vet?

John placed his daughter in the playpen. She pushed her face against the mesh side, and her eyes were focused on the strange new creature walking around her home. Zorro walked up to the playpen and pushed his nose into the mesh. Rosie giggled and pushed her face against his.

John frowned and turned his attention to Sherlock. The man in question had his head inside of the refrigerator.

“Sherlock,” John said softly.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, still looking inside.

“Don’t you think you should have asked me about this?” the doctor asked.

“About what?” the taller man asked shutting the refrigerator door.

The man had an apple in his hand and was slowly eating it. He wasn’t looking his friend in the eye.

“The dog,” John said, with his voice slowly raising. “Don’t you think you have included me?”

“He’s a trained dog,” Sherlock said lowering the apple. “All service dogs are good with children but I requested their most child friendly dog.”

“That isn’t the point,” the doctor said shaking his head. “A dog is a lot of work.”

“I can handle him,” he said placing the half eaten apple on the table.

“About what Mrs. Hudson?” John asked. “Did you ask her?”

“She’s out,” Sherlock said. “I think she went Christmas shopping. I’ll talk to her when she gets back.”

John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. What the hell was Mrs. Hudson going to say? They had never discussed pets before. He jumped when he heard his phone beep. He pulled it out and looked at the message.

_Sorry we’re running late. Should be in London by dinner._

_MH_

John sighed while pulling away his phone. Sherlock had already snuck off to the sitting room, and was kneeling next to his dog. John felt his heart soften. The three of them looked so cute together. Zorro and Rosie’s faces were stuffed mushed together through the fabric. She was laughing and petting the dog through the material. Sherlock leaned against his canine friend as he watched them play.

Part of him was still very angry at Sherlock. He should have involved Mrs. Hudson and him in the decision. Yet, he couldn’t stay angry. He knew Sherlock was feeling very down and unloved. No doubt the dog would comfort him. He still planned on speaking to him about it again. John hoped that when Sherlock parents arrived he would feel better.

Oh! He had forgotten to reply to the text completely. He dug out his phone and typed a quick reply.

_Can’t wait to see you. I’ll have dinner for you. What do you like?_

_JW_

Was he doing the right thing? Did Sherlock really want to see his parents? He knew Sherlock was depressed his parents hadn’t reached out to him but did he really want to see them? John didn’t believe he ever called them or spent time with them.

John prayed he hadn’t made the wrong choice.

\--

Mallory was beyond happy to finally be in London. Her husband was tired from the traveling and was dragging his feet behind him. The promise of dinner made his tired body move a little faster. They checked into a hotel and dropped their bags off.

The two of them quickly headed over to Baker Street. Mallory took a deep breath before knocking on the door. It felt like they were standing there forever before the door opened. A smiling John was standing in the doorway.

“Hello John,” she said pulling the man into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Thanks,” John said sounded surprised by the hug. “I’m glad to see you two as well.”

“How’s he doing?” Tim questioned.

“Good today,” John said. “He’s pretty much just being Sherlock today. He doesn’t know you’re coming so this will be interesting. Rosie is asleep in her room so please try to be quiet until we get into the sitting room.”

The three of them headed up to the flat. John opened the door and once they were all inside he closed the door quietly. Tim and Mallory sat down on the couch. Tim looked in interest at an opened box of pet supplies. John looked around in confusion. Sherlock had been on the couch when he left him.

John peeked his head into the kitchen to find Sherlock unbagging the takeaway he had ordered. Zorro was standing a short distance away carefully watching his master. The taller man had a perplexed look on his face.

“Why did you order so much food?” Sherlock questioned glanced at his friend. “I know you think I need to gain weight but this is crazy.”

“We have company Sherlock,” John said trying not to give it away. “There are some people here to see you.”

Sherlock sat down the food and walked into the sitting room. Most people wouldn’t have noticed a difference in Sherlock but John did. His eyes widened slightly and his breathing became quicker. He was definitely surprised to see his parents.

“Surprise!” Tim said, laughing slightly.

“We were in Japan,” Mallory explained. “We didn’t know you were even hurt until John called us.”

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John. His friend wasn’t looking at him. He had quickly turned his back to deal with the food.

“Sorry to cut your vacation short,” Sherlock said sitting down in his chair.

Zorro quickly left the kitchen and went to sit by Sherlock’s chair. The dog gave the newcomers a quick look before turning his attention back to Sherlock.

“Oh, you have a dog?” Tim asked trying to make conversation. “You always wanted a dog.”

“Zorro is my sight dog,” Sherlock explained. “I just got him.”

“I brought those Japanese KitKats you love so much,” Mallory said holding up a small bag of candy. “I don’t want you to think we stayed away because we didn’t care.”

“Mycroft didn’t say a word to us,” Tim insisted, sounding desperate. “If we had known we would have came to see you.”

“I know,” Sherlock said as John handed him his food. “I’m not surprised by Mycroft at all.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Mallory said when he noticed John was devising up their food.

“No it’s alright Mrs. Holmes,” he said. “We don’t have company very often. I don’t mind doing it.”

“So what’s the doctor say about your vision?” Tim asked not beating around the bush.

“Tim!” Malloy cried hitting her husband on the knee. “I swear…”

“They think it will come back,” Sherlock said, “At least somewhat but my doctor doesn’t believe it will ever be the same.”

“At least you have John to take care of you,” Tim said as he started to eat his food. “You could be on your own.”

John sighed gratefully in the kitchen and he got his plate. He knew Sherlock was grateful for his help but it was nice to know others knew he was doing a good job. Part of him was scared that Sherlock’s parents would want to take him away. Of course, he knew Sherlock wouldn’t go with them if he had any say in the matter.

“He’s been very…patient with me,” Sherlock said with a chuckle.

That little conversation seemed to relax the room. Mallory and Tim began to talk about their trip to Japan. As soon as Sherlock finished his food he began to dig into the strange looking kitkats. He only allowed John to have a small piece.

\--

Mallory and Tim stayed to nearly midnight. By that time everyone was ready for bed. They planned to speak to Mycroft in the morning and then join John, Sherlock, and Rosie for a trip to the mall.

Zorro’s bed had been placed in the corner of Sherlock and John’s bedroom. John made sure to place it on Sherlock’s side. The large dog followed Sherlock into the room. When Sherlock slid into bed the dog crawled into his own.

“Did I do the right thing?” John asked, lying down next to Sherlock.

“What?” his friend mumbled, sounding half asleep and confused.

“Your parents,” John explained. “Did I do the right thing calling them?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up. He stared at his friend with a look of surprise and confusion.

“Of course,” the detective said. “You saw how upset I was the other night. You did something that would make me feel better.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t be happy to see them,” the doctor explained.

“I love you John,” he said softly.

“What?” John questioned unable to believe the words he had just heard.

“You heard me,” he said. “No matter what I do or say you always look out for my best interest. You’re a good man…too good for me.”

John sat staring at his friend. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He didn’t know what to say. Sherlock leaned and pressed their lips together. John relaxed into his kiss and allowed Sherlock to lead him back down to the bed. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him close, until their bodies pressed together tightly.

“John…” Sherlock whispered when they pulled back for air.

“What?” he asked breathing lightly.

“Will we have sex?” Sherlock questioned.

That question surprised John a bit but it was a good question. He had no idea how far he was comfortable going with Sherlock in that way. After all, he had never been with a man before and Sherlock was a virgin.

“Do you want to?” the doctor asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock said nodding. “I want to.”

“Alright,” John said, clearing his throat. “It’s a bit of a process the first few times. Do you want to…um…be on top or bottom?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I guess…bottom. I mean…you know what you’re doing so I guess that makes sense.”

John had planned to talk to Sherlock about getting the dog without his input. Now that talk was so far away. His heart started to race at the thought of taking Sherlock, of being inside of him. He wasn’t surprised to feel himself getting hard inside of his pajama pants.

“Can I finger you?” John asked before he could stop himself.

“What?” Sherlock asked in surprise. “Finger me….now?”

John could have kicked himself for asking that. Sherlock only just mentioned sex and he was ready to shove things inside of his body.

“I guess,” the detective said when John didn’t reply.

“We don’t have to if you aren’t ready,” John quickly said. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“No…no…” Sherlock said digging in his bedside table. “No point putting it off. I mean…you said it was process right?”

“Yes,” the doctor said. “It takes a while for the body to adjust and to enjoy it.”

Sherlock handed a bottle of lotion to John. He pushed back the blankets and took off his pajama bottoms. He could feel his fingers trembling slightly as he tossed the article of clothing to the floor.

“Just lay back and relax,” John instructed. “If anything hurts, doesn’t feel right, or if you just want to stop tell me. You’re never wrong to tell me to stop and I’ll always stop.”

The detective resting his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. He did his best to relax as John spread his legs. He knew John wouldn’t hurt him and wouldn’t force anything on him but that didn’t stop him from feeling nervous.

John popped the bottle of lotion opened and squirted a little on one of his fingers. Due to his medical experience he knew how to do this without causing pain but there would still be a little discomfort. He gently rubbed his finger against Sherlock’s opening to see how tight it was.

As expected it was closed pretty tightly. No doubt his lover was nervous. He carefully rolled the tip of his finger over the opening. He made small circles over the entrance. After a short time Sherlock had relaxed a lot. John carefully pushed the finger inside.

Sherlock let out a gasp as he felt John pushing his finger inside of him. Even though he knew it was just one small finger it felt large inside of him. If that was just one finger how would John fit his whole erection inside of him? It didn’t even seem possible.

Once the finger was all the way in Sherlock felt the discomfort leave. He could still feel it inside of him but now it was just….there. He cried out as John began to move the finger around. Once in awhile he would bump against something that made it feel like all the nerves in his body were being set on fire.

John couldn’t help but get aroused by what he was seeing. Sherlock on his back with his legs spread wide. A single finger was inside in his anal passage and he was acting like it was the most pleasurable thing he had ever felt.

His face was becoming quite red and John could see he was sweating.

“Can I add another finger?” John asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking with excitement.

“Yes…” Sherlock hissed while clenching his eyes.

John carefully removed his finger. He carefully added more lubricant to his fingers, coating two of them very liberally. He didn’t want to cause his friend any discomfort. He brought the fingers to Sherlock’s entrance and carefully inserted them.

It was a bit harder with two fingers than with just one. He could feel the tension that was consuming his lover’s body.

“Take a deep breath,” John instructed. “You’re too tense for me to do anything. Do you need to take a break?”

“No,” Sherlock said a bit sharply. “Just give me a moment.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then released the air from his lungs. John could feel his lover’s body loosen around him. It was just a slight amount but it was enough to allow his fingers to move.

“John,” Sherlock moaned, spreading his legs as far as he could.

John felt his erection fully harden as he watched his lover twist on his fingers. He was taking them deeper into his body. The doctor slowly and carefully spread his fingers.

“Wait!” Sherlock demanded, opening his eyes.

John instantly stopped moving his fingers. He looked with worry at Sherlock. The man was panting and his eyes were staring down at his own erection.

“It’s alright if you can’t finish right now,” John said. “You’re feeling a bit overwhelmed aren’t you?”

“Keep going,” Sherlock said, collecting himself.

He laid his head back down fully on the pillow and closed his eyes. His hands were twisted in the sheets and pulling hard. John wasn’t sure he could keep going. It looked like Sherlock was on the edge of an overload of stimulus but he knew he had to trust Sherlock.

John started to move his fingers again, carefully brushing Sherlock’s prostate from time to time. It was during one of these brushes that he felt his body clamp tightly around the invading fingers. Sherlock let out a howl as he experienced his most intense orgasm.

When the good doctor was sure he done he slowly removed his fingers. He went into the bathroom to fetch a wet flannel for Sherlock. He washed his hands in the sink before returning to his friend’s side.

The man looked completely exhausted. His eyes were still closed and he was panting heavily. When John began to clean him up Sherlock jumped at the sudden touch. He didn’t complain as his body fluids were cleaned away. John tossed the soiled flannel into the hamper. John crawled back into the bed with Sherlock.

“What about you?” the detective always sleepily.

“Don’t worry about me,” John said. “This was about you.”

As much as John wanted to ask for a blowjob or even a handjob he didn’t feel it would be right. Sherlock accepted the answer without argument. He was too tired to assist John in achieving an orgasm anyway.

“Oh and Sherlock,” the doctor said leaning in close to Sherlock. “I love you too.”

Sherlock gave a little chuckle before falling asleep.

 

\--

I start school bright and early Tuesday morning. I highly doubt there will be another chapter uploaded before then. I’m hoping for Thursday night sometime.


	14. Chapter 14

Since there are going to be longer time between chapters I’m trying to make them longer. I hope everyone enjoys.

\--

The next morning Mallory was preparing to leave the hotel and speak to her oldest son. Tim wasn’t going to be able to make it; he seemed to have come down with a stomach flu. He’d woken up at three in the morning and started vomiting, and he’d fallen asleep after a little after seven.

Tim was prone to stomach issues so she wasn’t too worried about him. She would check on him before she headed off to spent time with Sherlock and John.

She was slipping her purse over her shoulder when she heard someone knocking on the door of the hotel room. She walked over to the door and opened it, and was surprised to see Mycroft standing in the doorway.

“I was just on my way to see you,” she said as he stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“I know you were,” Mycroft said, stepping fully into the room.

Tim grumbled at noise, and for a second Mallory thought he was going to wake up. The man gave a yawn, rolled onto his other side, and then fell back to sleep.

“Sick?” Mycroft questioned.

“You know how he gets when we travel,” she explained.

“Mother,” he said. “I know you were on your way to see me.”

“Of course I am,” she said, tossing her purse onto the bed. “What were you thinking?”

“I should have called you,” he admitted in a dry voice. “I apologize for that. I didn’t know you would be so upset. I knew Sherlock was in good hands. He didn’t need you.”

“That isn’t the point,” his mother hissed. “My son was injured. He could be half blind for the rest of his life. He needs a seeing-eye dog! I wanted to be there for him.”

Mycroft didn’t say anything. He simply pressed his lips together and turned his head away.

“John had to call me,” Mallory said her voice starting to shake. “Sherlock didn’t think I cared. He didn’t think your father cared. You know what he could have turned to deal with it. If John hadn’t been there my son would be in a drug den somewhere out of his mind.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen-“ Mycroft started.

“It isn’t your job!” Mallory snapped with rage filling her. “He is my son, not yours! He is my responsibly. Why don’t you think I can be a good parent? What did I do that was so horrible?”

Mycroft’s face fell at her words, and Mallory could see the sadness flowing through him. It was almost as if he was remembering something he had locked away in the deepest parts of his mind.

“Mycroft…” she said in a soft voice. “What did I do to make you lose faith in me?”

Her oldest son said nothing. He simply shook his head quickly a few times. It was almost as if he was trying to dislodge a thought from his mind. Cleary he was carrying something with him.

“You didn’t do anything,” he finally said after a long pause.

“Then what happened?” she asked almost begging.

“I should have told you about Sherlock,” he said collecting himself. “I promise I’ll keep you updated about anything having to do with his condition.”

Mallory didn’t have a chance to question her son any further. He quickly opened the door to the hotel room and disappear into the hall.

The mother dropped down onto the edge of the bed. Her son was hiding something. She had tried to reach him when he was young but she hadn’t tried hard enough. She had pretended nothing was wrong and hoped it would go away, and she had allowed her son to suffer alone. She may not have caused the problem, but had allowed it to progress.

What had she done?

\--

Sherlock was hesitant to go to the Westfield mall with everyone else. He was still ashamed of his current situation and didn’t want anyone to see it. Yet, he knew he had to get over that. He needed to get used to walking with Zorro, and he needed to learn how to trust the dog when he was guiding him.

His parents were supposed to meet them at Playworld on the ground floor. John rented a pram for Rosie headed toward the store. Sherlock was taking his time walking with Zorro, so when John noticed Sherlock was falling behind he slowed down so his friend had a chance to catch up.

For a few minutes they walked together in silence, both taking in the beauty of the all the lights. Little Rosie was mesmerized by the soft glow filling the space. Her head was darting from one direction to another. She was completely mesmerized by all the lights and sounds around her.

“You alright?” John asked, addressing Sherlock’s silence.

Sherlock hadn’t really said much since their intimate activates the night before, and John was starting to get worried his lover was regretting their actions.

“Crowds,” Sherlock said with sneer.

John looked around and noticed a few people were staring at them. There didn’t seem to be any mobile phones pointed their way so at least they had that to be thankful for.

“Ignore them,” John said, turning his attention to Sherlock.

Sherlock knew John was right. People usually stared at him no matter where he went; after all he was Sherlock Holmes. With his limited sight he was no longer Sherlock Holmes the sleuth. He wasn’t what the public expected to see.

When they reached the store Sherlock sat down on one of the benches outside. Zorro sat down on the floor next to him. The dog was slowly moving his head around taking in the sights and sounds of the mall. He didn’t seem put off by all the commotion.

“I’m going to take Rosie inside to play until your mother shows up,” John explained. “Do you want to come in or stay out here and wait for her?”

“I’ll stay here,” Sherlock said without thinking. “It’ll be easier that way.”

John wanted to argue with him. He didn’t want Sherlock to feel like his only job was to sit but he decided not to pick the battle. They did need to have someone keeping an eye out for Mallory. They didn’t want her to miss them.

Sherlock didn’t have to sit on the bench long before he saw his mother approaching. He was relieved to see he could see her from a distance with his good eye, with his glasses on of course. His bad eye was still only giving the slightest amount of blurry light.

“Where’s Father?” Sherlock asked as his mother sat down next to me.

“Sick,” his mother explained, not put off by Sherlock’s introduction. “I told him a thousand times not to eat so much when he’s traveling. Does he listen? No, of course not.”

“John has Rosie inside Playworld,” Sherlock explained, not waiting to be asked. “I’m sure he’ll be out soon. She tires pretty easy.”

“So how long have you two been an item?” Mallory questioned leaning in close to her son.

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock asked in a surprised voice.

“Come on,” she said shaking her head. “I knew it before I made it to the sitting room.”

“How?” he questioned.

He knew John wouldn’t have told anyone without his permission. John respected his privacy.

“John told us to be quiet because Rosie was asleep in her room,” Mallory explained. “I knew that place only has two bedrooms. Therefore you and John were sharing a bedroom.”

Sherlock gave a surprised laugh. He should have known his mother would have noticed a little slip like that. After all, he did get his deductive skills from her.

“I’m happy,” she said touching his arm gently. “You’ve found someone. I never thought that was going to happen.”

“How did your meeting with Mycroft go?” Sherlock asked, trying to change the subject.

He didn’t want to discuss their relationship further. He loved John, and John loved him, and they had a happy little family. What more was there to say? What did his mother want him to say?

“Oh that,” his mother said, turning her face away. “I couldn’t get through to him, as usual. He apologized for not telling me about the accident but I could tell he didn’t mean it.”

“I expected as much,” Sherlock said flatly.

“Has….has he ever told you about something that happened to him?” Mallory asked, trying to choose her words carefully.

“Happened to him?” Sherlock questioned, giving his mother a confused look. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Mallory said, while fiddling with the edge of her jumper. “I just get the feeling that he’s hiding something.”

Sherlock looked at his mother with a thoughtful look. What was she hiding? Had something happened to his brother to make him so unfeeling?

Before Sherlock could respond to his mother he was distracted by Rosie crying. He glanced towards the noise, and saw John was walking out of the store carrying his daughter with one hand and pushing the pram with the other.

“Papa!” Rosie cried, pushing her face into her father’s jumper.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked, while diverting his full attention to the upset child.

“She just wants you,” John said handing the child off. “I can see nursery school is going to be a fun time.”

Mallory smiled as she watched her son hold onto his god child. The child quickly calmed her crying in his arms; he was so good with her.

“I’ll push her,” Sherlock offered. “Maybe that’ll help.”

“Can you handle Zorro and the pram?” John asked without thinking it over.

Sherlock’s first instinct was to get angry. Why was John trying to baby him? He could take care of himself. He took a deep breath to keep the emotion from erupting from him.

“Of course,” he said in a calm voice. “I can hold onto Zorro with one hand.”

Sherlock placed Rosie in the pram. She gave a little whine but stopped it when she saw Papa was going to push her. He took the handle to Zorro’s harness in the other hand. The first few steps were a bit awkward but Zorro walked slowly.

The three of them starting walking together. Sherlock was determined to put his self-pity aside and have a fun day out.

\--

John insisted on taking Rosie to see Father Christmas. Sherlock didn’t really see the point. After all Rosie was too young to even understand who he was supposed to be. In the end Sherlock decided it would be a cute picture to give Mrs. Hudson. She loved having pictures of Rosie.

The wait in line felt like it took forever, but Rosie didn’t seem to mind. She was taking in the sights around her. Every time a new person walked past she would oh and ah. Zorro stood patiently and silently at Sherlock’s side. Sherlock was the one getting bored, and he was shifting from one foot to other.

His mother had left them to do some Christmas shopping; Sherlock hated shopping but he wished he had gone with her. Anything was better than standing in a queue.

“Calm down,” John said. “We’re almost there. I swear you’re worse than a toddler.”

Sherlock wasn’t going to argue. He knew he was being annoying. He let out a sigh of relief when they reached the end of the line.

“Ho ho ho,” Father Christmas said smiling at little Rosie. “Come see me little one.”

Rosie jumped a little in her seat and seemed happy about the idea of seeing him. John picked the child up and placed her in his lap.

“I know your name,” he said. “You’re Rosie.”

The child began to giggle at the use of her name. She was never put off by strangers.

“I’m sure you’re going to have a very happy Christmas little one,” the jolly man said. “I have a little something for you.”

The man dug reached into a basket next to his chair and removed a plush reindeer. He handed it to the small child. Rosie pulled it close to her chest and gave it a big hug.

“Is it a family shot or just her?” the man in the red suit questioned.

“Um…?” John looked over at Sherlock.

“Family,” Sherlock said before John could put together his question.

He walked onto the platform pushing the pram off to the side. Zorro followed close to him guiding him up the small flight of stairs. John made sure Sherlock was up the stairs safely before following Sherlock up.

Sherlock stood on one side of the chair commanding Zorro to sit. The large dog sat silently looking up at his master. John stood on the other side. He looked across at the camera operator. A woman dressed like an elf was operating a large professional camera.

He glanced over at Sherlock. He noticed the detective didn’t seem that upset about having his picture taking. He even smiling a bit. He thought Sherlock would hate having his picture taking while he was with Zorro. John decided to count his blessings and just enjoy it. He turned his full attention back to camera. The photographer took a few different shots.

“Come to Daddy.” John said bending down to pick up Rosie.

“I love the blog by the way,” Father Christmas whispered to John. “Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks,” John said with a little laugh.

Once they had a packet of photos and Rosie back in her pram Sherlock texted his mother.

**All done mother. Do you want to meet for lunch?**

**SH**

John, Rosie, and Sherlock decided to sit down at a bench and wait for Mallory to get back to them.

\--

After doing a little Christmas shopping for her family Mallory found herself thinking about Mycroft and Sherlock. She wished she knew what was going on with Mycroft. His belief that she and her husband didn’t care had caused Sherlock so much pain.

She’d been trying to push the thought to the back of her head all day but she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Tears were pressing at her eyes, so she quickly dove into a restroom and locked herself in a stall. As soon as she sat down she felt the tears flow from her eyes.

Mallory made it a habit to never cry. Whenever she cried she always remembered things that made her sad and she just ended up crying even more. She hadn’t cried in years. Suddenly she remembered the last time she had cried.

Sherlock was fifteen and she had discovered his drug stash while cleaning his bedroom. She had sat on his bed and cried her eyes out. How could her baby be on drugs? He still played with Legos. He felt too young to be mixed up those kinds of things.

She had cried until she didn’t have any tears left. She wanted to get all of her emotions out before she spoke to him. She knew she didn’t want to make it about her and if she cried in front of him it would seem that way.

Mallory grabbed a handful of toilet tissue and cleaned her eyes. She needed to get ahold of herself. She sighed when she heard her mobile beeping. She looked down at her messages and wasn’t surprised to see one from Sherlock. He wanted to meet for lunch. She took a breath and wrote a response with shaking hands.

**I’ll meet you. Stay there.**

**MH**

Mallory put her phone away and stood up. She knew she couldn’t hide the fact she had been crying. Sherlock would know. She would touch up her make up but he would still know.

Oh well. She still had to go on with her day.

\--

John walked into 221b Baker Street with a sleeping daughter. She was curled up against his chest holding her reindeer tightly in her arms. He carried up to her room while Sherlock went into the sitting room.

Sherlock took off Zorro’s harness before going into the kitchen to feed him his supper. The dog sat by his dish and waited patiently for Sherlock to give his food. The food made a clanging noise as it hit the metal bowl.

Once the bowls of were full of water and food Zorro began to eat.

Sherlock walked away from the dog and sat down on the couch. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. He’d seen her face when she met them for lunch. She’d been crying. She never cried, so something was really bothering her.

His mother thought something bad had happened to Mycroft when he was young. That would explain a lot. Sherlock’s mobile beeped, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked down at his mobile.

**Figured out your song. I’ll email you the original music and copies of variations you left with me.**

**JL**

At least that was some good news. Sherlock could finally figure out the secret message of the music box. Sherlock knew he had to speak to his brother as soon as he could. He needed to find out what was upsetting his mother so much. He needed to know what his brother was hiding. He typed out a message to his brother.

**I need to speak to you. Come in one hour.**

**SH**

Sherlock stared at his mobile phone for a few minutes. He got no reply from his brother but he assumed Mycroft would be at the flat in an hour’s time. He sat down his phone and went to working on the music.

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

I am drowning in homework but I don’t care. I MUST keep writing. Uh, a little on the shorter side today.

BR’S Note: Hey, Beta Reader here! This chapter was edited on 9/14/17! :)

\---

It didn’t Sherlock long to figure out the puzzle of the music box. It was never meant to be opened. It was way to transport a secret message through the music; this music was hiding an address. Sherlock quickly texted the information to Lestrade and told him to call him if he needed any assistance.

When it came close to the time for Mycroft to arrive, Sherlock asked John to make himself sparse. The doctor didn’t ask any questions. It was rare that Sherlock asked for privacy and he was more than willing to give it to them. He decided to go check on Mrs. Hudson. A storm was brewing outside and he wanted to make sure his landlady was alright.

Sherlock sat on the couch and waited for his brother to arrive. -

Mycroft didn’t know if he was making the right decision. He didn’t want to keep the appointment with his brother, but he knew that once his brother took interest in something he didn’t let it go. Perhaps it was best to tell him about it. There was a chance it would make him feel better, but there was also a chance it would make him feel worse. Dragging up old memories couldn’t be good.

He didn’t bother knocking before he walked into the sitting room, where he found Sherlock sitting on the couch in a mostly dark room. The only light was coming from the kitchen.

“What is it?” Sherlock questioned looking up at his brother. “What are you hiding that is worth making Mother so upset?”

“If I tell you this you have to promise not to tell anyone,” Mycroft said sitting down in John’s chair. “I mean no one. Not John, and definitely not Mother.”

“Fine,” Sherlock said with a snort. “No one.”

Mycroft wasn’t sure how to say it, he had never talked about this to anyone. It was just something that happened. It was in the past. Why did it bother him so much? He could just be able to talk about it.

“When I was five Mother insisted I take violin lessons,” Mycroft explained dryly. “She found a local teacher and I started lessons. After a couple of months he moved away and I was placed with a new teacher.”

Sherlock focused his full attention on his brother. What was Mycroft driving at? There was clearly more to his story. Sherlock sat in the uncomfortable silence, waiting for his brother to continue, but to the detective’s annoyance, he didn’t. He simply looked across the room into the darkness.

Wait.

The wheels in Sherlock’s brain started to turn. _No. It couldn’t be_.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock said. “What did your teacher do to you?”

“He molested me,” Mycroft admitted for the first time out loud. “He did it many times. After a couple of months he must have got nervous because he split town.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?” Sherlock asked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“No,” the older man snapped. “Why would I? It was done, and that bastard was gone. Mother tried to talk to me once, but quickly dropped it.”

“That’s why you don’t trust them,” the younger man explained. “They didn’t protect you.”

Mycroft jumped to his feet and began to nervously pace around the room. He had made the wrong decision! Bringing this up to Sherlock wouldn’t do any good. He glanced over at his brother. The man had a look of disbelief on his face. He believed Mycroft was telling the truth, but it was a lot of handle. He didn’t understand how Mycroft had managed to hide it for so long.

“Who?” Sherlock questioned. “What was his name?”

“Why does that matter?” Mycroft questioned, defensively raising an eyebrow. “It was years ago. His last name was Lesto, and I don’t remember his first. I haven’t seen a trace of him since I was a child.”

“You should tell Mother,” Sherlock said. “She feels like you don’t care for her. You need to tell her what really happened.”

“I’ll think about It,” Mycroft lied. “I have to go Sherlock. I have places to be early in the morning.”

Sherlock nodded. He knew when it was better to argue with his brother when it was a waste of energy. Mycroft had opened up to him in a way that he never had before, and he decided not to push his luck and allowed his brother to leave the sitting room.

Suddenly Sherlock felt like sleeping. He was tired and his felt overwhelmed by the information he had just received. The detective took his time walking to the bedroom. He smiled when he saw Zorro lying down in his bed. The large dog was lying on John’s side with his head on the pillow.

“You aren’t supposed to be in my bed,” Sherlock said, sitting down beside the dog. “John will have a fit if he sees you.”

The dog simply rolled over onto his back so Sherlock could scratch his belly. Seeing the dog helped Sherlock forget his troubles, and after a few minutes of cuddling with the creature he felt like a weight had lifted from his chest. Everything would be alright.

Sherlock climbed out of the bed and quickly changed into his pajamas. Zorro moved to the edge of the bed as he changed but didn’t give up his comfortable spot. Sherlock lay back down next to the creature, and pushed his face into the soft fur before taking a deep breath.

_I want a puppy, daddy!_

Sherlock jerked his head back at the memory of his own words. A soft puppy pushed to his face. Oh how he had begged his father time and time again, even though he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to have one of his own.

_Sherlock…no…how about a hedgehog?_

_Fine…can I have two?_

Sherlock remembered those two little hedgehogs that lived in a cage in his room. They were cute, but they weren’t dogs, and that’s what he really wanted. He wanted to feel the loving embrace of a creature that never judged him. A creature that loved him no matter what. A friend that would never leave him.

“Sherlock,” John’s annoyed voice cut through his thoughts. “Why is that dog in our bed?”

“It’s my bed,” Sherlock grumbled. “I just let you use it.”

“Sherlock…” John said in a testy voice.

“Down Zorro,” Sherlock said pulling his face away from his dog.

Zorro pulled away and jumped down from the bed. He walked over to his own bed and lay down. John grumbled and brushed the dog fur away from the blanket. He changed into the pajamas quickly. He climbed in under the blankets sliding up against Sherlock.

“I saw Mycroft leave,” John said. “He looked pretty upset. Did you two get into a fight?”

“No,” Sherlock said shaking his head. “Actually it was the opposite.”

John was surprised by that. It wasn’t like the two brothers to get along well. They always seemed be bickering about something.

“Forget about it,” Sherlock said, giving his boyfriend a kiss. “Let’s get some sleep.”

It wasn’t like Sherlock to cooperate about sleep. John decided not to question the blessing. He simply closed his eyes and relaxed into Sherlock. His friend seemed troubled by something, so he wondered what had happened between him and Mycroft. Of course, he wouldn’t ask. That wasn’t his place. If Sherlock wanted to talk to him about it he would, and John would be there to listen, but he would never force the conversation.

\--

Sherlock was jerked away by the sound of thunder. Loud rumbling was filling the silent night. As soon as he opened his eyes he saw a bright flash of light. The incoming storm must have turned bad, but the thunder wasn’t the only sound he heard. Soft crying was coming from the baby monitor on the bedside table.

Rosie must have been awakened by the storm.

He pushed back his blanket and was hit by the coldness of the flat. The heating must be playing up again. He stood and headed out to the kitchen.

Sherlock flicked a light switch and wasn’t surprised to find the room remained dark. No problem for him; he could easily navigate the flat in the darkness. He opened one of the drawers and rutted around for a torch, and after he found a large one he flicked on the switch. A bright yellow glow filled the room.

Sherlock walked up to Rosie’s room being very careful on the stairs. When he got to his daughter’s room, Little Rosie was sitting up in her crib crying loudly. He put the torch down and picked the child up. He could feel she needed a change through her clothes, so he got her changed, and put her into a warmer pair of pajamas.

“Papa!” she cried snuggled up against him. “Old!”

Oh. He guessed the little one was trying to tell him she was cold. Her little body was shaking against him, with her tiny hands clutching her stuffed reindeer. The tiny fingers trembled from the cold. He picked the torch back up and carefully headed down stairs taking each step very carefully. Steps made him nervous especially when he was carrying Rosie. When he reached the last one he took a relieved breath.

Sherlock walked back to the bedroom, where John was lying in the bed half awake. He yawned and looked around the room with confusion.

“Power is out,” Sherlock said crawling into the bed. “Rosie was cold.”

He covered them both up, and Rosie stopped shaking and relaxed against Sherlock. Her little body had finally warmed up. Zorro let out a loud yawn from his bed.

“Warm enough?” John asked, looking at Sherlock.

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “I think Rosie is already back to sleep.”

“Sherlock,” John said softly. “What happened with Mycroft tonight?”

“He told me something,” the detective said. “That’s all I can say.”

John noticed that his lover held onto the child in his arms a little tighter. It was almost as if he was protecting her from something. Clearly whatever it was had upset Sherlock, but he couldn’t imagine what it was.

John watched as Sherlock quickly fell asleep. It was clear he wasn’t going to get any answers. A whimpering noise caused John to look off to his side. Zorro was standing next to the bed, with his head placed on top of the blankets.

“Go to your bed,” John said sternly, looking the dog in the eye.

The dog didn’t move, and gave a little whine and pushed his head further on the bed. John didn’t want the dog in the bed. He didn’t want his blankets covered in fur.

“Bed,” the doctor said in a harder voice.

The dog began to whine harder and pushed insistently at John’s hand. Suddenly it occurred to him that the dog might need to go out. He glanced over at the sleeping Sherlock. The detective was fast asleep and John didn’t have the heart to wake him.

John groaned and got out of bed. He fetched Zorro’s leash and snapped it onto the dog’s collar. He yawned as he slipped on his jacket. He could hear it raining hard outside.

Of course, Sherlock was sleeping with the baby and he was left dealing with his boyfriend’s dog. John tried not to be too grumpy about that. He grabbed a pack of dog waste bags, and stuffed them in his pocket. The dog and doctor walked out of the sitting room and down the stairs.

When John opened the door he shook his head. The sidewalk was soaking wet, and more rain was coming down from the sky. John walked out with the dog at his side. Zorro wasted no time emptying his bladder.

“Are you happy?” he asked, looking at the waterlogged dog.

The dog simply started to pant. He didn’t seem to mind the flow of water from the sky. John glanced up and down the street, and it was then that John noticed he was angry. He was angry he was walking Sherlock’s dog in the pouring rain. Guilt began to settle in, and then shame. How selfish was he being?

Sherlock was half blind from an injury. Despite this he was still helping take care of a child that wasn’t even his. Since John and Rosie had come to live with him, Sherlock had helped so much. While John worked, Sherlock was raising his child.

John knew he couldn’t be so short with the dog. It was just an animal after all. It was an animal that helped his boyfriend get around, but something about the dog just put him off. Perhaps it was just the fact Sherlock had gotten the dog without his permission. He felt like Sherlock just did things without thinking of anyone else.

Of course, hadn’t he done the same thing with Rosie? When he moved back in with Rosie he had taken full advantage of the fact Sherlock was willing to watch Rosie for him. He worked several days a week and didn’t really take Sherlock’s need into consideration. Whenever Sherlock couldn’t watch Rosie he would leave Rosie with Molly or Mrs. Hudson. He always made sure his god daughter was in a safe place.

Sherlock got up in the middle of the night several times a week to take care of Rosie: he fed her, he bathed her, and he raised her like she was his own. He never complained about the job to John. Had John ever thanked him for it? He didn’t think he had. He knew it wasn’t the same thing, but it was still the principle of it.

So why was he complaining about the dog? Zorro was a lot less work then Rosie.

He was clearly going through something troubling with his family. His mother seemed be dealing with something emotional. Even though John didn’t know just what had occurred between Sherlock and Mycroft, he got the feeling it was something serious.

“Come on Zorro,” John said, leading the dog back inside. “Let’s get you dried up.”

As soon as they were in the doorway Zorro began to shake. Water sprayed everywhere soaking John and the floor. Once he was done the dog happily began to pant and look up at John. The doctor shook his head in annoyance. He was going to try to like Zorro but he could tell the dog wasn’t going to make it easy.


	16. Chapter 16

****

Sherlock opened his eyes, slowly taking the morning light that was shining in through his window. Everything was still blurry through his good eye, but his bad eye was a little better. There was a pool of blurry light and color shining through. He glanced over at the empty bed.

No sign of Rosie, John, or Zorro.

He picked up his glasses and slipped them on; with them his good eye was just like new. Unfortunately, they still didn’t help with his bad eye. Every day he always awoke with the hope that his vision was going to magically better but it never happened. He let out a disappointed sigh and climbed out of bed.

He walked out of the bedroom to find everyone in the kitchen. John was filling up Zorro’s bowls of food and Sherlock could smell bacon cooking. Rosie was sitting in her high care with a bowl of oatmeal. The little one was trying to do it herself but she was getting more food on her face than in her mouth.

“Hold on darling,” John said rushing to her side. “Let me help.”

Rosie began to cry when John took the spoon away. He quickly handed the spoon back to the fussing child.

“Fine,” he said with a laugh. “Make a mess.”

Sherlock sat down at the table. He was glad John seemed to be getting along a little better with Zorro. He knew John was still angry at him for getting the dog in the first place. A plate of food was placed in front of him. He sighed looking at the pile of bacon, two eggs, and sausage. He was never a big eater but John enjoyed cooking for him. Normally, he forced the food down but he had no appetite that morning.

All he could think about was Mycroft. So much about his brother made sense. Somewhere in his mind anger was starting to build towards his parents. Mother knew something was going on but had only tried to question him only once. It seemed to him she didn’t have that much interest in what had happened to him at the time.

How could she not investigate the issue? She wasn’t stupid. She was as good at reading people as he was, if not better. Mother had the habit of just pretending things weren’t happening. She always thought ignoring problems was the best way to deal with it.

Mallory had been the same way when she had found out about his drug habit. She knew for three months before she finally cornered him about it. It was only when he sprained his ankle falling down a flight of stairs while he was high that she decided enough was enough. Even then she didn’t seem that interested in the process.

It was his father that took him to the drug clinic, checked in with his doctor, and made sure Sherlock did what was expected of him. His mother just pretended he wasn’t fighting a very serious addiction. Sherlock knew she cared, but didn’t know how to handle what was going on.

Sherlock wondered if his father knew something had happened to his oldest son. He really doubted it. Tim was a caring man but not the most observant one. Sherlock remembered watching his father walk around the house for two hours once looking for his sunglasses. The man had neglected to notice his glasses were pushed up on his head.

“Sherlock?” John called, pulling Sherlock out of his thoughts.

The detective looked up to see John standing next to him. He was holding a plate of bacon and had a worried look on his face.

“I’ve been calling you,” John said sitting next to him. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” he said looking back down at the food. “I’m just not hungry.”

“You should eat,” the doctor urged. “Your body is recovering. The food will do you good.”

“Not today,” Sherlock said. “I’m sure I’ll live.”

“Sherlock-“ his lover started, but stopped short when he received a dirty look.

John knew when to push Sherlock and when not to. It was clear the detective had something on his mind he didn’t want to discuss. John reached across the table and gently touched Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock smiled slightly at the touch. He knew John was there to support him and he didn’t want to push him away completely. If he pushed John away too hard and too much he might leave him. He would leave and take Rosie away from him. That was something he couldn’t handle.

“You have an appointment today in an hour,” John said trying to break the uneasiness of the situation. “Do you want me to take you in?”

“I can get around,” Sherlock said, nodding towards Zorro. “That’s the reason I got him.”

Sherlock didn’t want to be a burden, he could take care of himself. He didn’t need John holding his hand all the time, but John was meant to be a doctor; he loved caring for others and couldn’t stand to see someone suffer. He wasn’t angry at John for trying to care for him. He was grateful for it, but he wished he didn’t need it.

“Who is going to look after Rosie?” Sherlock asked looking at the little one.

“I don’t go in for a few hours,” John said starting to eat his breakfast. “Mrs. Hudson is going to watch her when I leave. I’ve already spoken to her.”

Oh yes. Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock knew he still needed to speak to her. He still hadn’t spoken to her about Zorro. John’s actions surprised him quite a bit. He normally left arranging the childcare up to him. Why was he suddenly taking over it? He could handle it. He’d always been in charge of it. There was no need to change it due to his vision loss.

“I guess I’ll go get ready,” Sherlock said, moving to stand.

John frowned watching his lover hurry out of the kitchen.

\--

Sherlock couldn’t stop thinking. His brain felt like it was racing from thought to thought. He thought about Mycroft, his parents, John, and Rosie. He was barely listening when his eye doctor started talking to him.

“You’re making a lot of progress,” the doctor said sitting down next to him. “I plan on updating your glasses prescription in another week or two. I think your bad eye needs a stronger lens.

“Isn’t there a way we can do this faster?” Sherlock questioned.

“I’m afraid not,” his doctor said, sensing Sherlock’s desperation. “The damage was pretty extensive. I can tell you’re having some emotional struggles with this.”

Emotional struggles? That was way one way to put it.

“How about I set you up with a group I know of,” the doctor suggested. “It’s for people who are blind or have limited vision. I’ve seen people make heavy progress with it.”

Therapy? He wanted to him to go to therapy. He didn’t need therapy. He needed a doctor who could fix his vision problems.

“I’m not crazy,” Sherlock snapped without thinking. “I don’t need therapy. I need a decent doctor!”

The doctor didn’t seem taken back by Sherlock’s outburst. He was used to seeing outbursts from unhappy patients. It was just part of the job.

“I’ll tell them to expect you,” the doctor said, pretending not to hear his outburst. “I’ll write down the details. Give it a try. If you don’t like it you don’t have to keep going.”

Sherlock suddenly felt very guilty. He knew his doctor was trying his best, and he was right about the extensive damage. All of this was his doing, so he was to blame. If he had just gone to the doctor right away he wouldn’t be in this mess. He had no right to shout at one of the people helping him.

“Fine,” Sherlock said, in a calmer voice.

“Bring along a friend,” the doctor said looking at Sherlock’s chart. “Having a support group is very helpful when it comes to this kind of thing.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything, instead he simply stood and took Zorro’s harness into his hand. Everyone was being so patient with him and as usual he was being a real arse.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” the doctor said smiling slightly. “You’re going through something pretty rough. Just take it one day at a time.”

_Just take it one day at a time._

Sherlock knew those words all too well. He’d heard that far too many times during his time at rehab. It was overused advice but that didn’t mean it was bad advice.

“I’ll try the group,” Sherlock said. “Once. I’ll try it once.”

The doctor nodded his appreciations. It was all he could ask.

\--

Sherlock didn’t rush right home. It was fairly warm for a December day and he wanted to enjoy the weather. Plus he was avoiding Mrs. Hudson. Whenever he did something horrible to the flat she would give him one hell of a talking to. He didn’t try to be a bad tenant, but it just seemed to happen. It was like he couldn’t help it.

By the time he made it back to the flat he was ready to face Mrs. Hudson. He would get a talking to, but it would be earned. He knocked on Mrs. Hudson’s door and waiting for her reply.

“Come in!” she called.

Sherlock opened the door and walked inside. Zorro seemed very interested in the new space. He lifted his head and look around the room very slowly. He spotted Rosie sitting in a playpen in the middle of the sitting room. She was playing with a toy piano.

The detective leaned down and unlatched Zorro’s harness. He sat it down on the floor as Zorro walked away. He pressed his face to the side of the play pen. Rosie began to giggle at the sight of the dog.

“Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson said walking into his field of view. “Nice to finally meet the new resident.”

Zorro looked up at the stranger with interest. Rosie cried out angrily when Zorro looked away from her. The dog quickly turned his attention back to the baby. Sherlock smiled and walked over to the couch. He sat down and was quickly joined by Mrs. Hudson.

“Sorry for not asking for permission,” he said. “Or at least telling you about him.”

“I’ve learned never to be surprised by you,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no problem with the dog, but I really wish you had told me you were getting him. Sometimes I swear you are the worst-”

“Tennant in all of London,” Sherlock finished with a chuckle.

“You’ll never change,” she said while watching Zorro and Rosie play.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said in a more serious voice. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Sherlock wasn’t sure he was making the right decision but he couldn’t stop himself.

“What is it?” she asked glancing at him.

“I’m sure John wouldn’t mind me telling you this,” he started. “The thing is….John and I…are…well…together.”

Mrs. Hudson’s eye brows knitted together in confusion. Slowly it dawned on her what Sherlock was trying to say.

“I knew it!” she said laughing. “I knew you two would end up together. You’re perfect for each other. I knew something was going on. You two have been acting differently.”

“I guess this whole mess made us closer,” he said waving a hand towards his bad eye. “I think he felt bad for me.”

“I think I see,” Mrs. Hudson said. “That’s why you got the dog.”

“What you do you mean?” Sherlock questioned. “I got Zorro to make my life easier.”

“You thought John only started a serious relationship with you because you couldn’t see,” she said. “You got the dog so you wouldn’t need him as much. I’m taking a guess here but I have a feeling you were testing his love.”

Testing his love? That didn’t make sense, how was he doing that?

“You wanted to see if he would still love you even if you didn’t need his help so much,” Mrs. Hudson explained. “I take it his affections haven’t wavered since you brought Zorro home.”

Did he really think that? Did he really have that fear? Perhaps he did. Maybe he was worried John wouldn’t want him in the same way if he wasn’t in need of his care.

“Maybe,” Sherlock admitted. “Maybe a bit.”

“That’s why you’re telling me now,” she said. “He passed your test. Oh Sherlock. Why can’t you just accept that people care about you?”

“As always you’re right,” Sherlock said looking at his god daughter and dog.

Rosie finally looked away from Zorro and noticed Sherlock in the room. She began to cry and lifted her arms up.

“Papa!” she cried in a desperate voice. “Up!”

Sherlock got to his feet and raced to her side.

“How is my little girl?” he asked, lifting her up to his shoulder.

The detective held the small girl against his chest. She was always so happy to see him and he always felt the same way. Seeing her happy face could always pull him out of a bad mood. He pulled back slightly to look into her wide eyes.

She may only be his god daughter on only paper, but she would always be more than that. She was HIS daughter. Well, his and John’s daughter. He would never expect John to ask him to adopt her and he would never ask. Yet, in his mind and heart she was his daughter. He would care for her as if he had fathered her himself. He knew being a parent wasn’t going to be easy and that there would be hard decisions to make.

His mind drifted back to Mycroft. He knew he had made a promise to his brother but it was a promise he wasn’t going to be able to keep. His mother needed to know what had happened. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy but it was the right thing to do. Mycroft and Mother needed to work out what had happened between them.

 


	17. Chapter 17

There shouldn’t any plot here. Just wonderful sex. I was re-reading this story and I realized their physical relationship was slightly lacking. If you don’t like the sexy times you can skip it. I don’t think it should affect storyline.

Also sorry for the dely. I'm going to school to be a chemist and I am seriously overwhelmed. 

\----

John felt like a pervert but he had made up his mind. It was clear Sherlock was open to a sexual relationship, but was this getting ahead of himself? He pushed the thought of the back of his head as he walked into the small adult shop. He’d lied to Sherlock about going to work so that he could get out of the house without too many questions.

Luckily it was still early in the day so the place was pretty empty. There were two girls in their mid-twenties behind the counter. They were looking at a magazine that was open on the counter. One of them looked up for a second when he entered, but quickly lost interest and turned her attention back to the magazine.

For a second John thought about turning around and just ordering online but he forced himself to take a few steps forward. These were items they were going to use in their most intimate moments. It didn’t feel right to order them online.

He walked up and down the aisles looking at the assortment of toys. He had no idea which one to buy. Sherlock was very new to this so he would have to start out small. He picked up a vibrator that looked small enough not to cause his friend any unneeded discomfort. Next he found a set of butt plugs of different sizes. Taking it slow seemed like a good idea. He didn’t want to scare his lover by just shoving something large inside of him; Sherlock was nervous enough about sex.

As he paid for his purchases he hoped Sherlock wouldn’t be put off by his purchases. He’d been very unfair with his friend lately and wanted to make their night all about him. He wanted to spoil him with attention. Rosie was spending the night with Mrs. Hudson. Thank God she hadn’t asked him why he needed the favor. John was pretty sure she had figured out Sherlock and he were an item but he still didn’t want to get into it with her.

\--

After his conversation with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock knew he needed to have a few sit down conversations. He needed to be truthful with John; he needed to open up to him. He needed to express his fears and thoughts. Of course, he knew that conversation wasn’t likely to happen. The second was a conversation with his mother. He needed to tell her what Mycroft had told him. His brother might never trust him again but it needed to happen. The third was with Lestrade. He’d been so caught up with his personal life that he hadn’t even talked to him about the music box case. He wanted to know how it had turned out.

Sherlock was feeding Rosie her dinner when he heard John walk into the flat. The doctor sounded tired, and he was dragging his feet across the floor. Zorro quickly rushed to greet him. The large dog wagged his tail and brushed up against John’s leg.

“Long day?” Sherlock asked as Rosie ate another spoonful of peas.

“Flu case after flu case,” John lied. “Any dinner?”

“I just ordered some Thai,” the detective explained. “Should be here soon.”

“Thank god,” John said dropping onto the couch. “I’m starving.”

“Dada!” Rosie said waving a food covered hand at her father.

Rosie grunted and closed her mouth when Sherlock offered her another spoonful. Sherlock smirked and cleaned her face off.

“Hold on,” Sherlock said lifting the child up. “I take it you want Daddy.”

John smiled as Sherlock handed him his daughter. The young girl giggled and clung to her father. Sherlock went back into the kitchen and began cleaning up the mess; feeding Rosie was always such a mess.

“Sherlock I needed to talk to you,” John said as he watched Sherlock put dirty dishes in the sink.

“About what?” Sherlock questioned focusing on the task at hand.

“About what a jerk I’ve been,” the doctor admitted with a sigh.

That shocked Sherlock. He turned around and looked at his boyfriend with a look of confusion. What the hell was John talking about? John had been nothing but helpful. When he needed help getting dressed and bathing John had been there to help.

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock asked, while walking towards him to sit down.

“Last night I had to take Zorro out to pee,” John explained. “I was so angry. It was pouring rain and I didn’t want to do it. I was mad I had to do it. Then I realized I was being a jerk. I shouldn’t complain so much. I mean…you’re helping me raise my child and I’m complaining about a dog that you need.”

“You have a right to feel things John,” Sherlock said sitting down on the couch.

“I’m being very one way,” he said looking away from his lover. “You do so much and I never show you any appreciation.”

To his surprise Sherlock started to laugh. He looked up at him in confusion. What was he laughing at?

“John,” he said getting a hold of himself. “I don’t have many friends. Most people find me unbearable. You were the first person…in a very long to accept me for me. Molly thinks she loves me but she’s more in love with the thought of me. She’s my friend but she doesn’t understand me the same way you do. You’ve put up with a lot of shit from me. Sometimes I wonder why you stick around.”

“I just want you to know how grateful I am to have you around,” John said.

“Trust me I know,” Sherlock whispered.

Sherlock put an arm around John and pulled him in close. Young Rosie began to giggle as she was held between them.

“By the way,” Sherlock in an offhand manner. “I told Mrs. Hudson about us. She was over the moon.”

“You did what?” John questioned in an annoyed voice. “Don’t you think….It’s alright. She would find out sooner or later.”

Sherlock started to reply when he heard someone coming up the stairs. A few seconds later the door opened, with a happy looking Mrs. Hudson was standing the doorway. She leaned against the door frame and smiled at the sight before her.

“I have to run to the shop,” she explained. “When I get back I’ll pick up Rosie.”

“Pick up?” Sherlock questioned looking at his landlady.

“She’s taking Rosie for the night,” John explained. “Just the two of us tonight.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, watching John; clearly he was up to something. It was then that he noticed a plain brown bag near John’s feet. He couldn’t help but wonder what was in that bag. No doubt he would be finding out in a short time.

\--

Sherlock spent the next hour trying to figure out what John was up to. It was clearly something he wanted to keep private. Every time Sherlock went near the brown bag John would chase him off. After the second attempt John put the bag in their bedroom.

The detective guessed it had something to do with sex. That had to be the reason he was sending Rosie away for the night. He didn’t want any interruptions.

Was John planning on having sex with him?

There was no way he was ready for that. He’d only had a couple of fingers in him once. There was no way he was ready for that.

It seemed like an eternity before Mrs. Hudson arrived to take Rosie. The young child was more than happy to go with her god mother.

“Going to tell me what this is about?” Sherlock questioned as soon as she was gone.

“Well, he said. “I was going to ease into this but as usual you’re Mr. Impatient.”

“Ease into what?” the detective questioned.

“Come into the bedroom,” John said already headed in that direction. “I have a surprise for you.”

Sherlock stood in the kitchen for a few minutes watching John walk away. He wasn’t sure he was up for whatever John had planned. After a moment of thought he decided to trust John. The man had always looked out for him. He trusted him. He took a deep breath before following him.

John was sitting on the bed holding the brown bag.

“Going to show me what’s in there?” Sherlock asked, while sitting next to his boyfriend.

John was clutching the bag in his hands rather tightly.

“Show me,” Sherlock urged, nodding at the bag.

“You don’t have to use any of this,” John quickly explained. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Let me see,” Sherlock said, holding out his hand for the bag.

John handed it over making sure not to look his boyfriend in the eye. Sherlock opened the bag and reached inside. He pulled out the vibrator first. The small vibrator was sealed in a plastic clamshell package. He sat aside on the bed and reached back in.

The next item was a bigger box. He pulled out and looked at it. There was a clean plastic window on the front. He could see four dildo like objects in the window. Each one was bigger than the other. Sherlock felt nervous looking at the objects. They were much larger than John’s fingers. Would he ever be able to handle the largest one? He smirked looking at. He was always up for a challenge.

“You want me to use these?” Sherlock asked while glancing over at John.

“Only if you want to,” John said nervously.

“I want to,” Sherlock announced in a strong but quiet voice.

John’s eyes opened wide in shock. He was really surprised Sherlock was going along with it. He really didn’t think Sherlock would be interested in sex toys. It was then that John noticed Zorro. The dog was standing with his head just on the edge of the bed.

Uh…why does that dog always have to make things awkward?

“Bed,” John said strongly, pointing to the dog bed in the corner of the room.

Zorro didn’t move. He simply whimpered and pushed his head against the soft sheets.

“Bed Zorro,” Sherlock said narrowing his eyes at his dog. “I mean it.”

The dog gave a grunt but walked away from their bed. He crossed over to his own bed and walked in a few small circles before lying down.

Sherlock began to undress and John’s heart began to race. They were really doing this; it felt so crazy. He was really going to get Sherlock used to sex. He felt as if some long held dream was finally coming true, after all it did feel like a dream. It was too perfect to actually be happening.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts.

It was only then that John realized Sherlock was fully naked and he was still dressed. He was only wearing his glasses.

“Yes,” John said as he started to undress. “This is just…a romantic moment.”

“You’re getting ready to shove a bit of silicone roughly shaped like a penis inside my arse,” he said. “I don’t really see the romantic part of it.”

John smiled and shook his head as he threw his jeans to the floor. Only Sherlock could word it like that.

“Do you want me to take your glasses?” John asked reaching his hand out. “I can put them-“

“No!” Sherlock said pulling back.

Sherlock knew it was going to be a little awkward with his glasses but he didn’t want to take them off. He wanted to be able to see John. He was almost blind without his glasses. He felt trapped and scared when he couldn’t see anything. That was the last thing he wanted to feel while he was having sexual relations with his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” John said softly. “I didn’t think.”

John leaned over and opened the bedside table. After digging a bit he found the bottle of lube. When he turned around he was glad to see Sherlock was smiling again. John leaned in and kissed him. His slipped his tongue out of his mouth and slowly ran it over Sherlock’s lips.

“On your back,” John whispered.

Sherlock felt a shiver run up his back at the sound of John’s voice. He quickly laid down on his back. He placed his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. John carefully spread Sherlock’s legs and settled between them.

John popped open the bottle of lube. Sherlock jumped slightly at the sound of the noise. The doctor didn’t move until his lover had relaxed into the pillow again. He poured a bit of lube onto the fingers, before carefully beginning to rub his fingers against Sherlock’s entrance.

“Deep breath,” John instructed.

Sherlock took a deep breath as John carefully pushed his finger inside. The taller man jumped a bit at the action. It didn’t really hurt it just surprised him. John waited a second before easing his finger deeper inside. Sherlock lifted his back slightly off the bed before relaxing again.

It still felt so strange and foreign. If it wasn’t John there was no way he would allow it to happen. John made him feel safe and well cared for. He knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He knew he wasn’t taking advantage of his disability and emotional state. There was no way he would do that. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy what he was feeling.

John looked up at Sherlock’s face. He was relieved to see his lover seemed calm. Even though they had just started Sherlock was already starting to sweat. His glasses were struggling to stay on his nose due to the moisture.

He carefully moved his finger in and out watching for any sign of discomfort. When Sherlock began to move down against his finger John knew he was ready for another.

John pulled the finger out and adding more lube. This time he pressed two fingers to Sherlock’s entrance. Sherlock took a deep breath and he pushed forward. There was a little resistance but his fingers slipped in after a moment.

“Uh!” Sherlock grunted as the fingers went deeper into his body.

“Alright?” John asked wiggling his fingers a bit.

“Yes,” he hissed, pressing down against the invading appendages.

John felt him hardening at the sight in front of him. The thought that Sherlock was enjoying himself so much turned him on. He was delighted he could give his lover joy. He couldn’t wait until Sherlock was ready to take him. That was going to be a magical experience.

“More,” he moaned grabbing the sheets with hands. “I want more John.”

John glanced over at the box that contained the butt plugs. The smallest one didn’t look much bigger than his fingers. He carefully removed his fingers.

“Hold on,” John said.

John reached over and picked up the box. He opened the top and pulled out the smallest butt plug. When he looked up he noticed Sherlock’s eyes were open. The man in question was looking at the sex toy with a slightly worried look.

“If you hurts or if you just don’t like it tell me Sherlock,” John said setting the toy down between Sherlock’s legs. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Sherlock said closing his eyes.

John picked up the bottle of lube and coated the toy with it. He picked up the toy and carefully pushed it in, while Sherlock’s body tightened up a bit as the toy started inside. His body didn’t like the idea of accepting the silicone. It didn’t feel like John’s fingers. It was hard and unyielding.

“Deep breath,” John said. “I know it’s uncomfortable.”

Sherlock did his best to relax as his body was filled. His body felt full and stretched. It felt as if nothing else would fit, but more kept coming.

“This is the worst part,” John warned.

John was at the widest part of the butt plug. He knew they rest would slid in once he got over it. He met a little more resistance as the toy slid home. Sherlock let out a grunt of pain before falling silent.

“Sorry darling,” John apologized. “How is it?”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He felt full and sore yet he felt pleasure from the toy pushing at his insides. He tried to move a little and quickly froze. The feeling of it moving inside was too overwhelming. There was a mixture of pain and pleasure building inside of him.

“It’s a lot,” Sherlock finally answered.

“Let me get the vibrator,” John said. “That’ll help.”

John reached over and picked up the vibrator package. He popped it open and removed the vibrator. Luckily the small battery was included so he didn’t have to worry about that. He placed it against the base of the butt plug before turning it on.

“John!” Sherlock shouted as he felt the toy began to gently vibrate.

While the movement did cause some pain the pleasure it caused out-weighed it. He began to grind down against the toy inside of him.

John knew his lover wasn’t going to be able to last very long. He being bombarded with new sensations that were no doubt overwhelming.

“I’m….I’m going…” Sherlock said in a frustrated voice.

Clearly he felt it was too early to orgasm.

“It’s alright,” John said in a comforting voice. “You finish whenever you’re ready.”

Sherlock didn’t want to orgasm. He wanted the pleasure to last but he couldn’t stop it. His body began to shake as his climax took over his whole body. In the blink of an eye cum coated his shrinking erection.

John quickly turned off the vibrator. He didn’t want to overwhelm him.

Sherlock felt his body tighten around the toy inside of him as came. Little waves of pain and pleasure rocked him. As soon as his orgasm was over the toy no longer felt pleasurable inside of him. It felt hard and foreign.

“John,” he said opening his eyes. “Can you take it out?”

“Of course,” John said reached down to touch the end of the toy.

Carefully and slowly John pulled the butt plug out. Sherlock yelped as the widest part of the toy passed through. There was no way to avoid it.

“Sorry,” John said tossing the toy aside. “I wish there was an easier way to get it out.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock said brushing it off. “I know.”

John looked down at his still hard erection and then back up at Sherlock. The detective looked far too wretched to give a blow job or a hand job. He looked like he was in need of a good nap. The doctor coated his hand with lube and started to masturbate.

“John,” he said looking at John with those beautiful big eyes. “Can you do something for me?”

“Of course,” John panted still pleasuring himself. “What is it?”

“Come inside me,” Sherlock said in soft voice. “Put the tip in right when you’re ready.”

John frowned at the idea. He wasn’t sure Sherlock was ready for that but it was so very tempting. He knew he would feel amazing. Oh well. What harm could it do?

“Alright,” he agreed.

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to relax as he listed to John masturbate. He couldn’t wait to feel it. He couldn’t wait to feel John inside of him.

John could feel his own climax approaching. He quickly stopped and lined himself up. As carefully as he could he slid the head of his cock inside. Sherlock gasped at the sensation. It felt so different than the toys and even John’s fingers. It was hard but not unyielding like the toy. It stung a bit but not too bad as the full head slipped inside.

“Sherlock!” John shouted as he released inside of him.

Oh! It was so warm inside of him. The feeling persisted even after John removed his erection.

“Thank you,” John said moving to give him a kiss.

“You’re welcome,” Sherlock said giving a tired yawn.

“Sleep,” the doctor instructed. “I’ll get everything cleaned up.”

Sherlock was going to argue with that. He felt sticky inside but he was far too tired to deal with it. He knew he would be rather uncomfortable in the morning but he just didn’t care. He barely had to the energy to take off his glasses, place them on the bedside table and then to crawl under the blankets. He yawned one final time before he let sleep take him.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry about the major delay. My life is insane.

\--

Sherlock felt sore, sticky, and generally uncomfortable as he opened his eyes. At first he couldn’t understand why. Then slowly the memories of the night before flooded his head. Oh yes. He had the remains of John’s climax inside of him. As much as he loved knowing he still had traces of their love making inside of him he knew he had to take a shower. He put on his glasses and slipped off to the bathroom. Zorro was at close at his heels making sure nothing bad happened to his master.

It was only when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom that he realized that flat was empty. There was no sign of John or Rosie. After a search of the flat he found a note from John on the refrigerator. He had to go into work and had left Rosie with Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock frowned at the note. Why hadn’t John woken him up? Perhaps he just wanted him to rest.

After checking his phone for messages he found two. One from Lestrade saying that he would drop by later that night and one from his eye doctor. He had sent him the information about the support group for people with limited vision. There was a meeting in about two hours.

The text made it clear children and family members were welcome. Perhaps he would pick up Rosie and take her along. He didn’t like the idea of going alone. It seemed overwhelming and scary, even though he would never admit it out loud.

He took time to fix a small breakfast. He knew that if he didn’t eat something John would be breathing down his neck like a dragon. He knew proper nutrition was needed more than ever. His body was trying to heal a pretty traumatic injury.

Sherlock harnessed Zorro and headed down stairs to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. If Rosie was taking a nap he would have to face the meeting on his own. He knocked on the door and only had to wait a moment for his landlady to answer.

“Good morning,” she said nodding him in. “I’m surprised you slept so late. I was expecting you here ages ago to steal my little princess.”

“John wants me to rest,” he said with a snort. “Says I need it to heal.”

“John is right,” she said walking into the sitting room. “Where are you headed off to today?”

“Support group meeting,” Sherlock said with a sneer. “My eye doctor thinks I need support.”

“It wouldn’t hurt Sherlock,” She said. “Maybe you need to let your walls down a bit.”

He spotted Rosie in her playpen. She was sitting up and had a stuffed animal in either hand. They seemed to be talking to each other. Rosie was rambling on in words Sherlock couldn’t understand.

“Papa!” she cried dropping the toys. “Up!”

“Come here little one,” he said.

He set Zorro’s harness down just long to take his little one into his arms.

“Let me help you with her coat,” his landlady said. “It’s pretty cold outside.”

\--

Sherlock wasn’t sure about the support group. He nearly turned around twice on the way there. Yet, he was determined to at least try it. If he didn’t like it he didn’t have to go again. What was the harm in at least trying it?

Rosie seemed interested In where they were going. She kept learning her head from side to side taking in her surroundings. She looked up at him as they walked into a large building. They found themselves in a small reception room. There was a woman sitting behind a counter with her focus on a tablet in her hands.

“Hello,” Sherlock said walking up to the counter.

“Hi,” she said setting the table to the side. “I take it you’re here for the group.”

“Yes,” he said. “My doctor sent my information over.”

“Oh,” she said digging around for a piece of paper. “Yes. Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yes,” he answered already annoyed with the tedious process.

“And who is this little one?” she asked smiling down at Rosie.

“This my little one Rosie,” he explained. “My doctor said that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Of course not,” she said with a small laugh. “I think we have another little one about her age today. Go on in, Jane should be in there.”

Sherlock spotted the only door in the room and headed that way. Zorro was looking around the room with interest but still kept glancing at Sherlock. He never took his eyes off his master very long. Sherlock opened the door and walked inside.

 

\--

 

Jeff Lesto was beyond angry. As he stomped through his flat he began knocking things off the shelves in a fit of rage. Sherlock! That son of a bitch had ruined his entire business. He didn’t even notice the sounds of glasses smashing to the floor.

He had broken the key to his music boxes. How? He had used that code for years to run his child pornography ring. Of course, whoever sent out the box was really to blame. Sherlock shouldn’t have been able to crack the code.

One of his homes had been raided earlier that morning. Of course, the house wasn’t in his name but there was always the change they would be able to track it back to him. He wasn’t going to prison because of Sherlock Holmes!

If didn’t go to prison his business was still ruined. Clients wouldn’t trust him once they realized he was being watched by the police. They wouldn’t risk it. He walked over to the window and placed his hands on the window sill. Jeff took a few deep breathings trying to calm himself. He had to get a hold of himself. Think! What could he do to fix things?

Holmes.

That name struck a nerve in his brain.

Sherlock Holmes... did he have any relationship to Mycroft Holmes? He seemed to think so.

He remembered years and years ago he had known a Holmes. Little Mycroft Holmes. He was one of the first children he had…indulged in. He’d gotten scared and fled town. That was long ago and far away. He had grown so much since then.

As Jeff’s brain began to calm down and his heart rate began to slow his brain started to work again. Sherlock Holmes. He needed revenge against the detective and he had the perfect way to do it.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

In need of new beta. Please feel free to email me at wisteriascottdunham@gmail.com. Thanks!   
\---------  
Sherlock didn’t know what to think of the group. Everyone there was nice and accepting. No one acted like they knew who he was. Perhaps they were just doing that to make him feel welcome. Even though it had went fairly well he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back. Going back made him feel like he was accepting a future with limited vision. He wasn’t ready to accept that. 

After the meeting he headed back to the flat. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Lestrade came by to touch bases with him. 

Rosie was unusually fussy. She was crying and refusing to be put down. Sherlock held the child in one arm as he tried to fix her lunch.

“Come on Rosie,” he said. “Be a good girl. Papa needs to fix your food.”

“No!” she cried pushing her head into his chest. 

Sherlock sighed as opened a jar of baby peas. He dumped the contents into a bowl before placing it in the microwave. 

The consulting detective tried to place the young one into her playpen. She cried out and clung to him harder. 

Sherlock frowned placing a hand to the young child’s head. Her skin felt hot under his hand.   
“Looks like someone is sick,” he said walking with the child to the bathroom.

He found the ear thermometer and carefully placed it in the child’s ear. She didn’t seem to mind it. He would have to check the other ear but at least it didn’t sound like an ear infection. 

After only a few seconds the device beeped. 37 Celsius. 

“Hold on darling,” he said. “I know we have something for that.”

Sherlock frowned looking at the collection of bottles. Even with his glasses he was having a hard time making out the labels. 

“Sherlock!” he heard Lestrade call from the living room. 

“Bathroom,” Sherlock called. “I need your help.”

He only had to wait a moment before he noticed Lestrade standing at the bathroom door. Zorro was at his heels looking happily up at the man. 

“I can’t find the infant paracetamol,” Sherlock explained. “I don’t trust my eyes.”

“No problem,” Lestrade said walking fully into the room.

After a moment of digging he found the bottle. 

“Want me to give it to her?” Lestrade offered. 

“If she’ll allow it,” he said handing the infant over.

To his surprise Rosie didn’t protest being handed over and she even seemed to calm down a bit. Perhaps she can sense the stress Sherlock was carrying. It was the first time she’d been sick and it was hard to take care of her with his limited vision.

“I’ll go get her lunch ready,” Sherlock before walking out of the bathroom.

He hated himself so much. He hated the fact he needed help taking care of her. He should be able to do the simple job of taking care of an infant. 

Sherlock removed the bowl of food from the microwave and placed it aside to cool. He found a sippy cup and filled it with apple juice. 

“What did you find in connection to the music boxes?” Sherlock asked when he heard Lestrade walking by him.

“Child sex ring,” he explained. “We arrested a ton of people but we still didn’t get the head guy.”

“Isn’t that always the case?” Sherlock asked taking Rosie from Lestrade.

“There is a whisper of a name but nothing strong enough to press charges yet,” the detective inspector explained. “You’re right though. We almost never get the head guy.”

Rosie seemed a lot calmer when Sherlock placed her in her high chair. 

“What’s the name?” Sherlock questioned as he helped his daughter eat.

“Jeff Lesto,” Lestrade explained. “When we searched the computers in the home we found an account for a Jeff Lesto. No one was willing to tell us what his part in the whole thing was and most of them denied knowing who he was.”

That name caused Sherlock to freeze. After a moment he collected himself and kept feeding Rosie. She only ate a few mouthfuls of food before she started refusing it. 

“Know the name?” Lestrade asked.

“No,” Sherlock said quickly. 

Lestrade frowned at that. Sherlock had clearly reacted to name. No doubt he knew the name.   
“He’s a violin instructor living in London,” Lestrade said. “I did a little check on him and he has a clean record. Nothing as small as a traffic ticket. The guy is a bit too clean but there is nothing I can do.”

“Just keep an eye on him,” Sherlock said. “If he has anything to do with it he’ll panic and make a mistake.”

“I hope so,” Lestrade said with a sigh. “If he has anything to do with it I want to get him.”  
Sherlock helped the little one latch onto her sippy cup. She began to drink quickly as if she was dying of thirst. 

“You need me to get you anything for Rosie?” Lestrade asked looking at the sick child.   
“No,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “John will be home soon. I can handle it.”

Lestrade gave Sherlock and Rosie a concerned look. He knew Sherlock could take care of the little one normally but he seemed unusually stressed. 

“I’ll call you if I need anything,” Sherlock said glancing at Lestrade.

Sherlock took the child out of the high hair and cuddled her close to his chest.   
Jeff Lesto. 

He had something to do with that child sex ring. Sherlock knew it. He was going to prove it and take him down. This just wasn’t a case anymore. It was personal.


	20. Chapter 20

Once John got home from work, he looked over his young daughter. After a  
moment he came to the conclusion that it was simply a viral infection. She was slightly less fussy when bed time rolled around.

Since she wasn’t vomiting John placed her in her own bed and made sure to turn  
the baby monitor on.

When John returned to see the sitting room, he was surprised to see Sherlock  
asleep on the couch. Zorro was curled up on the floor next to the couch. He didn’t  
dare wake him up. He knew his boyfriend was tired from taking care of Rosie. He  
would have to figure out a how to give Sherlock some time off. Rosie was bound  
to be sick for a few days.

He made sure the baby monitor was on in his own bedroom before curling up  
under the blankets. At first, it felt nice. Having the whole bed to himself for once.  
Quickly though it felt strange. He stretched his hand out and placed it on  
Sherlock’s pillow.

It felt so strange not to be touching his lover’s curly hair. All he felt was the cool  
touch of the soft cotton pillow case  
.  
John grunted and pushed back the blankets. There was no way he was going to be  
able to sleep without Sherlock.

He walked out of the living room and knelt next to the couch. He placed a hand on  
Sherlock’s shoulder and gave him a soft shake.

“Sherlock,” he said softly. “Wake up.”

“Wha…” Sherlock asked his eyes fluttering open.

“Come to bed,” the good doctor said. “You’ll feel better there.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said yawning. “This couch hurts my back.”

John headed back to bed. Sherlock diverted off to the bathroom, his dog following  
at his heels. Zorro never let Sherlock get too far ahead of him. John heard him  
turn on the water and no doubt start brushing his teeth.

He was glad that Sherlock was adjusting to his limited vision but part of him was  
saddened by it. Sherlock, the great consulting detective, struggled to see to brush  
his teeth. It didn’t seem fair. He was a good person that didn’t deserve what was  
happening to him. But life wasn’t fair was it?

He glanced up when Sherlock walked into the room. The man climbed into the  
bed next to him. Zorro stood by the bedside for a second before lying down on his  
own bed.

“Thanks for taking care of Rosie today,” he said. “I know she is a lot of work when  
she’s fussy.”

“Don’t worry,” Sherlock said closing his eyes. “I handle it.”

“I’ll make sure you have someone to help you over the next few days. You  
shouldn’t have to do this alone,” the doctor explained.

“She’s just an infant,” he explained with a grunt. “I can handle it.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with asking for help,” John said.

To John’s surprise, Sherlock’s eyes opened looking at him with an annoyed look. It seemed like he had hit a nerve with the man.

“I don’t NEED help taking care of my own daughter,” he snapped.

John couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Sherlock quickly rolled onto his side and fell silent. He couldn’t believe what he had just said. It had just come out.

“Sherlock,” John said softly. “Did you say, ‘your daughter’?”

John wasn’t mad. He really wasn’t. He was actually happy to hear Sherlock’s words. It was wonderful to think that Sherlock thought of Rosie as his own child. They were a couple after all? Weren’t they?

“I want to sleep John,” Sherlock said trying to drop the subject.

Clearly Sherlock hadn’t meant to let that slip out. Did he regret becoming part of her life? Did he regret their relationship? Was he embarrassed by what he was feeling? So many thoughts flew through John's mind. 

"Good night,” John said kissing his boyfriend on the head.

Sherlock only responded with a small grunt. He decided that they would talk about it in the morning. There was no need to press the issue when they were both so tired.  
……..  
The sound of soft crying slowly drifts to Sherlock’s ears. He groaned and opened  
his eyes. He picked up his glasses and slipped them onto his face. The dark  
bedroom slowly came into focus. He glanced at the baby monitor on the bedside  
table. Rosie was awake.

Wait. Something wasn’t right.

Her crying was higher pitched then normal. She didn’t sound simply upset.

She sounded scared.

Sherlock looked to see Zorro scratching at their bedroom door. The dog seemed  
desperate to get out of the room.

“John!” Sherlock shouted. “Something isn’t right. Wake up!”

The crying from the monitor was fading. It sounded like she was moving further  
away from it.

The doctor jolted awake at the sound of Sherlock’s panicked voice. The detective  
jumped out of the bed and opened the bedroom door. Zorro gave chase out of  
the room as fast as his four legs would carry him.

Sherlock and John quickly followed after the dog. John opened the hallway door and raced up the stairs to Rosie’s bedroom. To his horror Rosie’s door was open and her crib was empty.

“She’s gone!” he yelled racing back down the stairs to the front door.

Sherlock was standing at the open front door staring out into a cold dark night. A light snow had fallen in the night, and he could see footprints in the snow leading up their door. There was no sign of their child or the people who had taken her.  
“I’m calling Lestrade,” John said rushing back up the stairs.

Lesto. It had to be him. Sherlock had taken down his sex ring and this was his way of getting revenge. If anything happened to Rosie because of him he would never forgive himself, and he knew John wouldn’t either. Lesto planned on taking everything from him.

He had to do something.


	21. Chapter 21

Everything around John was a blur. He knew there were police officers around asking him dozens of questions. Even though he heard them and answered, he still felt as if he wasn’t even in the same room. Despite it not being Lestrade’s department he was there trying to lend a hand.

John hadn’t spoken to Sherlock since they had discovered that Rosie was missing. The detective seemed just as upset as he was about the missing child.

At some point, he had disappeared from the flat. John didn’t think he had left since he hadn’t put Zorro’s harness on. The dog had followed behind his master, but Sherlock would never take him out into the city without his harness.

“John,” Lestrade said softly pulling him out of his thoughts.

John blinked a few times as he was yanked back into reality. The detective inspector was standing a few feet away and looking at him with a worried expression.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said. “We’re going to find her. I’m going to clear everyone out, but I’ll be back later.”

John didn’t know how to thank Lestrade. He knew the man would go out of his way to help him and not rest until Rosie was brought home safe and sound.

Slowly one by one the police officers emptied out of the flat. Lestrade was the last one to go. He threw John a sympathetic look before walking out of the door leaving John all alone.

The good doctor waited a moment before heading out of the sitting room. He could hear Sherlock talking to someone at the front door.

“I know what I’m doing,” Sherlock snarled. “I know who did this. I know this is going to drag things up for you but maybe that would be good.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mycroft’s voice floated up the stairs. “Go after him but leave me out of it.”

“Talk to mother and father,” Sherlock was urging. “This is killing mother. She wants to know what you’re holding back. They’re still in London. Mother is coming over in a few hours, and this is going to come out.”

What was Sherlock talking about? What was Mycroft hiding?

“What has having a family done to you?” the older Holmes questioned. “A few years ago you wouldn’t have even cared about mother. You never cared when you stayed out all night and came home high. You didn’t care about her tears then.”

“Tell me where he is,” Sherlock demanded. “I’ll handle this myself.”

“He isn’t at his home right now,” Mycroft said. “No doubt he has another residence. As soon as I have a lock on him I’ll text you. It shouldn’t be very long. I have my best men on it.”

“I’ll let John know,” Sherlock said in a calmer voice.

“You don’t need to,” the man said. “He is standing at the top of the stairs listening to us. Goodbye Sherlock.”

John heard the front door shut a few seconds later. Sherlock and Zorro walked up the stairs. The detective didn’t look at him as he walked past.

“You know who has Rosie?” John questioned. “Why didn’t you tell Lestrade?”

“I don’t have proof,” Sherlock said shaking his head. “But I know it’s him.”

“How do you know?” the doctor asked.

“His name is Jeff Lesto,” the detective explained sitting down on the couch. “Lestrade thinks he is connected to that child sex ring I broke up.”

“Is this revenge for doing that?” John questioned sitting down next to his boyfriend.

“Partly,” he said looking away from the pain in John’s eyes. “His relationship with my family goes back a little while.”

“Is that what Mycroft was talking about?” he questioned.

“Yes,” he said nodding.

John wanted to ask more questions but he got the feeling it was something that Sherlock didn’t want to talk about.

“We’re going to find her,” Sherlock said turning to face John. “I’ve got everyone I know working on it. She will be home before the sun comes up tomorrow. “

The whole situation was really starting to hit John. His daughter was gone. Sherlock was sure he knew who she was with but that didn’t make John feel any better. His young daughter was kidnapped by a man that ran a child sex ring. What was going to happen to his daughter if he didn’t get her back?

“It’s alright,” Sherlock said pulling John into a hug. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

It was only then that John realized he was crying. Hot tears were running down his cheeks. How long had he been crying? His body began to shake as he started sobbing harder. This caused Sherlock to hold onto him tighter. Zorro began to whimper and nudge his head against them.

-

Lesto smiled as he tucked the child into the bed he had set up for her. The child really was adorable. She seemed to be getting over the flu. He had sent one of his employees out to get some medicine for her.

When he first ordered her kidnapping, he had no idea what he was going to do with her. He just wanted to hurt Sherlock. He just wanted to cause him pain.

Perhaps he would keep the child and raise her as his own. He had his own children but only sons. He always wanted a daughter to raise as a little princess. He would give her all the things she wanted. He always treated his own children like gold.

He knew there was a chance Sherlock or Mycroft would find him with time. He wouldn’t allow them that chance. He was planning on leaving Britain for good for his home in Germany. Once he got her out of the country they would never be able to find them.

An incoming snow blizzard meant flights wouldn’t be happening for a day or two but he could wait that long. He had gone to his second apartment in London to escape away from the Holmes brothers.

Lesto got to his feet and walked to the back patio doors. He opened the doors and stepped out on the porch. Snow was falling onto the wooden porch and the river. Lesto placed a hand on the rickety wood. He was running from the Holmes family again but this time he was taking a prize with him.


	22. Chapter 22

Mallory didn’t know what to do when she arrived at 221b baker street. It was rare to see her son so worked up. He was pacing across the sitting room floor and biting his nails. John was sitting down on the couch watching his boyfriend wearing down the floorboards with his pacing.

Zorro was lying on the floor next to the couch. He watched his master pace for a minute before letting out a soft wine. Even the dog could feel the tension in the room and it was starting to rub off on him.

Tim seemed just as lost as her. He glanced at her with worried eyes before looking back at his son. Clearly, he wanted to say or do something, but he didn’t know what to do.

“Is there any lead on where Rosie is?” Mallory asked when no one seemed to notice her entrance.

“Yes,” Sherlock said stopping his pacing. “Lesto. I have Mycroft looking for him right now. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

“Jeffery Lesto?” Tim questioned sounding very confused.

Mallory knew that name well. Jeff had been a music teacher at their local primary school. Mycroft had taken lessons with him for a short time.  After he had moved away suddenly Mallory tried to find him another teacher, but he refused to attend. That was around the time that Mycroft’s behavior had started to change.

“Why do you know him?” John asked fixing his eyes on the older woman.

“I’m very confused,” Tim said not answering the doctor’s question.

“This isn’t for me to explain,” Sherlock said walking towards his parents. “Mycroft needs to do the explaining.”

“Explain what?” Mallory asked in a shaking voice.

Part of her didn’t want to know what was going on. It had to be something bad; if it wasn’t bad Sherlock would have simply explained it.

John looked from Mallory and Tim to Sherlock. He didn’t understand anything that was going on. Was his daughter kidnapped because some crazy person was angry at Sherlock’s family?

“I’ll explain everything Mother,” an almost silent voice said from the landing.

Mallory turned to see a nervous looking Mycroft standing a few feet away from her. Seeing Sherlock made her nervous but seeing her oldest son nervous broke her. Mycroft did his best to hide all emotions. Her oldest son was looking down at his mobile. He pushed a few buttons with a shaky hand before looking up at his parents.

“I texted you the address Sherlock,” he said. “I encourage you to call the police, but I know you do things your own way.”

“You can talk while I go get Rosie,” Sherlock said putting the harness on Zorro.

“We should call Lestrade,” John said standing up. “This guy could be dangerous.”

“This man has hurt my family for the last time,” the consulting detective said taking a hold of the harness. “He’s going down and I’m not waiting for the police.”

“I’m calling them anyway,” John said dialing away on his mobile.

Despite everything(,) John managed to smile slightly at Sherlock’s words. He really consisted Rosie family. In that moment John knew that Sherlock would do anything to protect the two of them. Of course, deep down he already knew that.

“Put a hat on,” Mallory said as Sherlock passed her. “It’s freezing outside.”

\---

Lesto stood in his bedroom carefully packing a travel bag for Rosie. The little one would need some supplies for the trip. He had already made a few phone calls and he knew he wasn’t going to have any trouble taking her out of the country. Even though he didn’t like the idea of having friends they did come with perks.

He had only brought enough supplies for a few days. He would buy the rest of the stuff she needed once she was safely in her new home.

Soft crying interrupted his thoughts. Little Rosie was crying in her temporary bedroom. He set the bag down and walked down the hall to her room. The young child was sitting up and pulling at her ears.

“Hi there little one,” he said picking her up. “Let’s get some more medicine into you. I wish you didn’t have to travel with an earache, but we can’t afford to wait.”

Rosie let the stranger pick her up. He walked out of the bedroom and downstairs to the bathroom. He had barely entered the small room when he heard it. Someone was in his home. He took his time giving the child her medicine before walking out of the living room.

Somehow, he had been found.

He walked into the living room and wasn’t surprised to find Sherlock and John in his living room. He had seen their pictures on enough newspapers to know who they were. Sherlock seemed a little different in person. He was wearing a pair of glasses and was walking with a seeing-eye dog.

Oh yes. The great detective had suffered a serious injury lately. How could he have forgotten?

Letso reached between the cushion producing a small handgun he kept there in case of emergencies. Without much difficulty, he held the child while pointing the gun at Sherlock.

“Give me my daughter,” John demanded.

“Dada!” Rosie said pointing to her father.

“I think not,” Lesto said placing the child in a playpen he had set up in the corner of the room.

“How do you think you’re going to stop me from just taking her and walking out?” John asked.

Lesto didn’t seem put off by their presistance.  Rosie was starting to cry loudly. No doubt she wanted to be held by her Papa and Dada.

“You two are at a disadvantage,” Lesto said opening the door to the porch. “Sherlock is a good fighter but he is nearly blind. You were once a military man weren’t you John. By the looks of you, it seems your short marriage only slowed you down.”

Outside it was starting to snow heavily. A wave of cold wind slipped into the home through the open door.

“Just go,” Lesto said turning to face them. “Run. Run like Mycroft did. Run and pretend this never happened just like your mother.”

John’s brain was slowly starting to put things together.

“Oh my god,” he said finally getting the big picture. “You molested Mycroft. That’s why he is so…strange.”

“Yes,” he said leaning against the railing. “Once I was done with him I left. Your mother must have seen the signs. Mycroft was starting to act very strangely. That’s why I had to go. He was drawing far too much attention to me. I expected your mother to have the police on me like a pack of rabid wolves, but she didn’t.”

John couldn’t stand the sound of his daughter crying anymore. He ran over to her and picked the child up. The crying stopped the second John pulled her into his arms. Sherlock stood in silence looking at Lesto. He couldn’t believe what was coming out of that man’s mouth. He was the monster, not his mother.

“It was then that I realized I could get away with it,” Lesto continued ignoring John’s actions. “Your mother gave me the courage and confidence to do what has made me rich. She’s the real monster in this. The monster who ignored her child’s suffering. Over my career, I’ve seen dozens of mothers like her, and they make my job very easy.”

“Let’s just go,” John said Rosie said already backing up. “The police are outside Sherlock. Let them handle it.”

Rage was building in the detective. He wanted to kill Lesto. He wanted to wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze until he saw the light leave the man’s eyes. No. He couldn’t do that. That man wasn’t worth getting in trouble for. He started to turn his back on the man.

The police? Great. At the very most he was going to have to deal with a kidnapping charge. He didn’t expect Sherlock to call the police. He had a feeling that was John’s doing.

“What are you going to do?” Lesto asked lowering his gun slightly. “You’re going to run away, aren’t you? Let the police deal with it? I’ll get charged with kidnapping. They’ll give me five years and I’ll serve a year. Then I’ll back on the street doing what I love.”

What happened next wasn’t what Lesto was expecting. He expected Sherlock to turn, face him, and run his mouth a bit. He didn’t expect Sherlock to drop Zorro’s harness and charge at him with everything he had. Yet, that was what happened.

Lesto shouted as the taller man slammed into him. The gun flew from his hand and disappeared over the railing into the river. He quickly punched Sherlock in the face in an attempt to knock off the man’s glasses. He hoped he would be completely blind without them.

Sherlock knew John was shouting at him, but he couldn’t stop. The child molester had pushed him too far. He was going to give that man what he deserved. He cried at his Lesto stuck him in the head. His glasses flew off and dropped to the ground. Sherlock made to look for them but before he could even start he heard the sound of glass being smashed.

The consulting detective was fighting blind, but he wasn’t going to let them stop him. He punched and kicked as hard as he could. He knew he was making an impact because he could feel it.

That’s when he heard it. Cracking wood. Something was breaking. Suddenly he felt himself being yanked forward and into the freezing water. He couldn’t see and he couldn’t hear. All he felt was the burn of the cold water against him.

Lesto was gone. He was no longer pulling or punching him. Sherlock was alone in the frizzing water. Without his vision, he was panicking. He didn’t know what to do. He tried to swim but he couldn’t tell which way was up or down.

Suddenly he felt a hand pulling on his jacket. At first, he thought it was Lesto trying to pull him further into the deadly water. He fought back against the pulling hand.

“Stop,” Lestrade’s voice managed to reach his ears. “I’m trying to help.”

Sherlock stopped fighting the hand. Lestrade was saving his life. The consulting detective relaxed in his friend’s grip. As soon as he relaxed his world went black.


	23. Chapter 23

John felt like his whole world was crashing down when he saw Lestrade pull his boyfriend’s limp body from the river. After a quick examination from John, it was found that the detective was breathing but clearly still needed emergency care. He was quickly rushed to St. Bart’s hospital.

That was two days ago.

Sherlock had been asleep in a hospital room since then. The only good news was that they had found Lesto’s dead body. That would comfort Sherlock when he woke up.

John had stayed by his boyfriend’s side as much as he could. Molly or Mrs. Hudson were more than willing to switch out with him when he needed rest. Mallory and Tim were in and out. He knew it was far too painful for his parents to stay. No doubt his mother blamed herself. If she had figured out what had happened to Mycroft when he was small none of this would have happened.

Zorro was being just as loyal as John. The dog was quickly given a small jacket that read “medical support dog” on the side and was allowed to sit by Sherlock’s bedside.

John tried not to think about his unconscious boyfriend. He had a book in his hand and was trying to focus on that. If he didn’t think about something he might lose his mind.

“Uh,” a soft grunt reached his ears.

The doctor looked up quickly from his book and focused his full attention on Sherlock. The detective had made a few noises but nothing that pronounced.

“Sherlock?” John asked in a hopeful voice.

“Jo…” Sherlock started but he didn’t finish the word.

John sat down his book and moved his chair closer to him. His boyfriend blinked a few times and grumbled to himself. It took the doctor a minute to realize he was asking for water.

“Hold on,” John said quickly getting to his feet.

He quickly fetched a glass of water before returning to his chair. He leaned over carefully to help Sherlock drink the water. Once Sherlock had the liquid in him, he really started to come around. He opened his eyes fully and looked around the room.

“We’ll get you new glasses once the doctors say you can leave,” John said quickly. “Lesto must have broken yours.”

Sherlock frowned taking in the room. His good eye was still very blurry. He could make out John sitting right next to him but not much else. His bad eye was still very dark but not nearly as dark as before. Some light was getting through but what little he could see was blurry.

Lesto.

“What….happened to Lesto?” Sherlock said still trying to gather himself.

“Dead,” John said simply placing a comforting hand on Sherlock’s arm. “They pulled his body out of the river.”

“I’m sorry John,” Sherlock closed his eyes as he rested his head against the pillow. “I shouldn’t have attacked him like that. I should have just left.”

“I don’t blame you for what you did,” John explained. “I might have done the same thing in your position. I’m going to call everyone and tell them you’re all right. Do you need anything?”

“Something to eat I guess,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “I’m sure the doctors will want me to eat and…I have to admit I’m a bit hungry.”

“I’ll take care of it,” John said standing up.

He started to turn to leave but then he stopped. He leaned over the bed so that his face was only a few inches away from Sherlock’s face. The detective jumped slightly at the movement.

“Sorry,” he laughed before giving him boyfriend a short kiss. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement. He was glad he was alright. He couldn’t imagine how John would have suffered if he had died. He had already gone through that pain once. He didn’t need to do it again. John hurried out of the room leaving Sherlock alone with his thoughts.

\--

Mallory and Tim were delighted to hear Sherlock was awake and talking. Their youngest son was going to all right, hopefully so will Mycroft. For a moment they thought they might lose him. Mallory wanted to see him as soon as possible. She needed a little happiness to get her mind off Mycroft.

As soon as Sherlock and John had left Mycroft had told them everything. How could she had been so stupid? She saw all the signs and chose to ignore them. Tim kept telling her not to blame herself. After all, he was Mycroft’s parent too He should have noticed that something was wrong with their young son.

The couple waited a few hours before going to see Sherlock. They knew he would be overwhelmed if they showed up right away. No doubt he was still feeling crummy, and he would want to spend a little time with John.

When they finally arrived at the hospital they weren’t surprised to see John was there. The man had hardly left their son’s side. Mallory was grateful that Sherlock had someone like that in his life. Sherlock was sitting up in bed with little Rosie in his lap. The two of them were watching a portable DVD player that was sitting in Sherlock’s lap. John was sitting by the bedside with Zorro resting at his feet.

Mallory and Tim stood by the door not fully coming into the room. For some reason, they didn’t feel like they should interrupt. It felt like John, Sherlock, and Rosie were having a family moment that they didn’t belong in.

“Come in,” Sherlock said not looking up from the digital screen. “I can feel you there.”

Mallory and Tim walked fully into the room. The two of them sat down in the last two free chairs.

“How are you feeling?” Tim questioned.

“Better,” Sherlock said looking in his father’s general direction. “I hope you had a long talk with Mycroft.”

For a moment no one said anything. The only sound that could be heard was the noise from the portable DVD player and Rosie’s gentle laughter as she watched her favorite cartoon.

“He told us everything,” Mallory said breaking the uncomfortable silence.  “I know…I know it’ll take time but one day I hope he can forgive me.”

“We’re staying until the New Year,” Tim said desperate to change the subject. “We want to spend a little time with Mycroft and spending Christmas together again would nice. I know it would be hard for you to travel with-“

Mallory jammed her husband in the side with her elbow.  She knew what he was talking about. Traveling a large distance was going to be hard for Sherlock as he still needed his dog to get around. Mallory didn’t imagine that traveling with him would be easy, but that didn’t mean her husband needed to bring up it. No doubt Sherlock was still a bit sensitive about the fact he needed a dog.

“Oh,” Sherlock said shifting his eyes down at nothing. “Yes, I suppose that would be best.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Tim said only making the situation worse.

“Perhaps I should get Rosie some dinner,” John said standing up. “Why don’t you two join us?”

John was desperate to change the subject. He didn’t want Sherlock thinking about his vision problems. He always got so depressed when he did.

“Sounds good,” Tim said not really understanding the situation. “I’m starving.”

John bent down and tried to pick up Rosie. She cried out and clung to Sherlock. Clearly, she didn’t want to leave him. She hadn’t seen him in two days and wanted to be near him.

“Come on Rosie,” he said trying again. “We’re going to get food.”

“Papa!” she demanded clinging tighter against him.

“She’s fine with me,” Sherlock said smiling slightly.

“Are you sure?” the doctor questioned.

John didn’t want Sherlock to feel like he had to watch Rosie just because she was cranky. He was still bedridden and couldn’t see very much.

“Of course,” the consulting detective said starting to get annoyed with the situation. “If I really need help I can just page a nurse.”

John knew that was true. Perhaps having a little alone time with Rosie would keep Sherlock in a good mood.

“Alright,” John said. “If you need anything call me or a page a nurse.”

Sherlock simply nodded and went back to watching the show with Rosie. John, Tim, and Mallory stood up and walked out of the room together.

As soon as they were out of the room Mallory looked at her husband with an angry look.

“What?” he asked surprised by her mood change.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” she asked. “Or do you just say whatever you want?”

“I guess I messed up,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “I forgot that’s all. Sometimes I forget how sensitive Sherlock can be.”

“It’s alright,” John said trying to keep the two from getting into a full-fledged argument. “He won’t be so bad once he gets his glasses back. Just try and be more careful.”

“Of course,” Tim said nodding. “I won’t do it again.”

Argument settled the three of them headed downstairs to the cafeteria.

\--

Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh as soon as his parents and boyfriend left the room. He shouldn’t be so sensitive about his vision. Yes, he did need his glasses and Zorro to get around but there was nothing wrong with that. He didn’t even use his stick anymore. He had learned to trust Zorro when they were walking and didn’t think he needed the stick. There were lots of people out there with limited vision that lived full lives. He could be a good boyfriend and father.

Father.

Wait…hadn’t he meant Godfather? Yes…No.

_“I don’t NEED help taking care of my own daughter.”_

His words from a few days ago came back to him. He had almost forgotten he had said that. He did feel like she was his daughter. He was dating John. They lived in the same house. Rosie called him Papa. But what if John didn’t feel the same way. What if he didn’t want Sherlock thinking of Rosie as his own? Sherlock couldn’t think of a reason why he would feel that way but that didn’t erase the thought from his mind.

Sherlock shook his head as he decided that he shouldn’t think about it anymore. He would wait until he could discuss it with John. No point in thinking about it anymore until he knew how his partner felt about it.

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

The good doctor had almost everything in order for Sherlock to return home. Before John left the flat he made several sweeps of the flat to make sure there was nothing to trip the detective. While Sherlock had been in the hospital the flat had gotten a bit messy. John was either at the hospital or sleeping so there didn’t seem to be time to pick everything up. Molly insisted he take a few hours off to enjoy himself. He managed to finish his Christmas shopping. He just had one last gift to buy. He was getting Sherlock something very special for Christmas.

John wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. Was he rushing things? Should he wait? As soon as he entered the mall he thought about turning and running out. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. No doubt Lestrade was already there waiting for him. As soon as he had made up his mind about what he was going to do he called him. After all, he was going to need a little help.

He found the detective sitting in the food court waiting patiently for him. He was holding his mobile and looking at his text messages.

“Sherlock’s Christmas present?” Greg asked holding up the phone. “How the hell am I supposed to help?”

“You were the only one I could ask for help for this,” John explained. “I promise it isn’t anything strange.”

Greg shrugged his shoulders and put his phone away. He got his feet and followed after John. To his surprise, the doctor didn’t head towards the science center or the music store. He headed right for the jewelry store. John stopped just inside the doorway and took a deep breath.

“Oh my god,” Greg said stopping as well. “You’re going to propose!”

“Shut up,” John hissed looking around. “I don’t want this to get out. It’ll spoil the surprise.”

“Wow,” Greg said shaking his head slightly. “I have no idea….I mean I knew you two were together now but…marriage?”

“I know what I’m doing,” the good doctor said even though he didn’t.

The two of them headed into the store and John was overwhelmed right away. Even though he had already been through this before he didn’t any easier. Suddenly, he felt a wave of guilt. Mary. What would she think? He shook the thought from his head. She would want him to be happy.

“What do you think Sherlock would like?” he asked looking at the cabinet.

“Nothing too big,” Greg said. “He doesn’t even wear rings, so he would want something understated.”

“I agree,” he said kneeling in front of one of the cabinet to get a better view.

“Can I help you?” came the overly happy assistant.

“Uh,” John said standing back up. “I need an engagement ring that isn’t too much. Something that wouldn’t stand out heavily.”

“Alright,” she said nodding. “I think I might have just the thing for you.”

She knelt down and opened one of the cabinets removing from it a small ring. It had a white gold band and a single diamond in the middle. Nothing too fancy.

“How much?” he asked already nervous to hear the answer.

“Fifteen hundred pounds,” she said reluctantly.

“That’s a bit high isn’t it?” Greg asked. “It’s a bloody engagement ring. He’s only going to wear it a few months. Besides, I think we’re going to need two.”

Oh. John hadn’t even thought about that. Was he going to expect only Sherlock to wear one? That didn’t seem right. It felt almost like he was trying to pretend Sherlock was a girl. No. They would both need one.

“Oh,” she said looking a bit embarrassed. “If you need two we have a couples set that is a bit cheaper. It isn’t as nice.”

She returned to ring to the cabinet and fetched a set of rings. The diamond was a lot smaller in the two rings, but John guessed Sherlock would like that.

“How much?” he asked not really wanting to hear the answer.

“One thousand pounds,” she answered.

John wasn’t sure he could afford that, but he didn’t want to go any cheaper. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t care about the money, but he wanted to be special.

“I’ll help you out,” Greg said as soon as he saw John’s face.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he said shaking his head.

“Consider it a wedding gift,” the detective said sounding like he wouldn’t take no for answer.

“Fine,” he said. “But I don’t like it.”

Greg laughed a bit to himself. He would accept that for that answer.

“Would you mind holding onto it?” John asked as they paid for it. “I don’t want to risk him finding it.”

“Of course not,” Greg said as the lady walked away to resize them. “When do you plan on giving it to him?”

“At our Christmas party in three days,” he explained.

“In front of everyone?” Lestrade asked. “Aren’t you worried that’ll be too much for Sherlock?”

“If I wait until Christmas morning I might not do it,” John said. “I need someone there who knows about it encouraging me.”

“What are you afraid of?” his friend asked.

“That he’ll say no of course,” John said as if the question was a stupid one.

“He won’t say no,” Greg said. “Everything is going to be fine.”

John really hoped that Greg was right.

\--

The doctors insisted Sherlock stay for another full day. The detective didn’t like the idea, but he agreed to make John happy more than anything. The doctor was always at him to rest and let his body heal. Sherlock knew he was right, but he was so hard to rest because sitting and doing nothing drove him insane.

As soon as his doctor signed off on his release Sherlock demanded John help him get ready to go home.

“Alright,” John said handing Sherlock a pile of clean clothes. “Can you manage on your own?”

Sherlock looked down at the pile and frowned. He wasn’t sure he could. He was fine with most things, but buttons and shoelaces were near to impossible without his glasses. Of course, that wouldn’t stop him from trying. What if he needed to get dressed one day by himself and he didn’t have his glasses? He needed to be prepared for anything.

“I think I’ll be all right,” he said holding the bundle close to his chest. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

John watched Sherlock carefully make his way to the bathroom. Luckily there wasn’t anything in the way for him to trip over.

Since Christmas was in a few short days John had arranged to have a small Christmas tree delivered later that day. In his years at Baker Street they never had a Christmas but now that they had a child; things were going to be different.

_They had a child._

Yes, they had a child. He planned to talk to Sherlock about that but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

Zorro seemed ready for work. As soon as he saw John pick up his harness he sat down and waited for it to be placed on him. John had made sure the dog was walked three times a day while Sherlock was in the hospital, but it didn’t seem to be enough for the dog. He wanted to do his job.

“Good boy,” John said as he snapped the harness into place. “We have a few stops to make. That should make you happy.”

John looked at the bathroom door when heard a suddenly frustrated grunt. He resisted the urge to ask what for wrong and if he needed any help. What was the point when he knew the answer? Sherlock was struggling with the buttons and NO he did not want any help.

After a few moments, a dressed Sherlock emerged from the bathroom. He had managed to get all his buttons right, but his shoelaces were still untied.

“I need help with my shoes,” he admitted sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll get them for you,” John said kneeling down. “I have no problem helping you with these things Sherlock. I hope you understand that at this point.”

“I know you don’t,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “It still…hard…to ask for help but I’m getting there.”

John knew he was trying and he had to admit he had improved a lot. Once he was done with his task he stood up.

“We have a few stops to make before we go home,” John said. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you're eager to get home.”

“I’m eager to get out of this bed,” Sherlock said taking Zorro’s harness in his hands. “I really don’t care where we go.”

“We have to do a bit of shopping and then you have an appointment with your eye doctor,” John explained.

John was glad that he had given the ring to Greg to hold onto. He would be nervous with Sherlock and it in the house at the same time. Of course, he was still nervous, but he had to get a grip on that. He was thinking about Molly. He had invited her to their Christmas Eve party even though he wasn’t sure it was the right thing. He knew Molly would feel left out if he didn’t invite her, but he wasn’t sure she would want to see him propose to Sherlock. Would it be too painful for her?

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked sensing there was something on his mind.

“I…I forgot to tell you we’re having a Christmas Eve party,” he said quickly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I guessed as much,” his boyfriend said with a grunt. “I guess I’ll have to make do with it.”

John nodded even though he could really see it before the two of them left the room.

\--

Molly wasn’t sure how to feel about anything anymore. She loved Sherlock with all her heart, but she knew he would never love her back. Sherlock, John, Rosie, and Zorro were the perfect little family. Even though they hadn’t said anything about their relationship Molly could tell they were intimate now. It hurt to see him with someone else, but she was happy for him at the same time.

She had received a text from John inviting her to their Christmas party.  Part of her didn’t want to go but she knew if she didn’t go she would just end up spending it alone. She sighed and replied that she would be there. She would be there and support their relationship even it killed her inside a little bit.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Alright. I have NO idea how this happened. I was messing around editing this story and 2 chapters got deleted! I will be re-reading this story to make sure nothing else got deleted. Again I really don’t understand how this happened. If my readers would be so kind as to check to make sure no chapters or chunk of texts are missing. Thank you so much.

 

I no longer have this chapter. I looked through both my laptops and can’t find this chapter anywhere. I have most of my other stories and all the other chapters. So I had to rewrite this.

 

I added the sex scene. I will be re-reading this story later to make sure nothing else was damaged. 

 

-

 

John wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do it. He wanted to propose to his boyfriend but he wasn’t sure how.  

 

The flat was crowded for their Christmas party. Molly, Mallory, and Mrs. Hudson were sitting on the couch laughing with each other. Lestrade was in the kitchen talking away with Sherlock’s father. Even Mycroft had showed up. Currently, he was locked in the bathroom but at least he had showed up.

 

Sherlock was sitting in chair across from John playing with Rosie. Zorro was curled up at his feet. John sat in silence with a small smile on his face. He wanted to have be a family with Sherlock.

  
Did Sherlock?

 

It was clear that Sherlock loved Rosie but marriage was a different thing.

 

“We need to give Rosie her gift now,” Sherlock said jerking John out of his thoughts. “She is starting to get a bit grumpy.”

 

Mallory got to her feet and retrieved a gift from under the tree. She handed the glittery package to the young child. Rosie looked in wonder at the package.

 

“Let’s open it,” Sherlock said tearing a corner of the paper.

 

Rosie gripped the edge of the paper and gave it a tug. She giggled as the paper tore under her fingers. Slowly a stuffed animal was revealed. She quickly pulled it out of the paper and held it tight to her chest. It was a dragon that lite up when she was squeezed it.

 

“Come on,” Sherlock said standing up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

 

Sherlock headed out of the bedroom holding the child close to his chest. Zorro followed close at his heels.

 

John felt his heart racing as Greg walked over to him.

 

“Here is Sherlock’s gift,” Greg said pushing the item into his hand. “Give it to him.”

 

“Aw,” Mrs. Hudson said looking at the gift. “Sherlock is impossible to shop for. What did you get him?”

 

“You’ll see,” The police officer said walking back into the kitchen.

 

John frowned looking down at the wrapped box in his hand. He wasn’t second guessing his decision. He was just worried about doing it infront of a group of people. What if Sherlock got nervous and ran out? There was always a chance.

 

“Are you alright John?” Molly asked raising an eyebrow. “You look sick.”

 

Before John had a chance to reply Sherlock re-entered the room. He sat back down in his chair.

 

“Give him his gift,” Mallory said. “I want to see what it is.”

 

Sherlock looked at John with a confused look. He assumed they would be doing their personal gifts in the morning.

 

“Do it,” Greg pushed from the kitchen.

 

“What’s going on?” Tim questioned. “What’s the big deal about a gift?”

 

John looked down at the box in his hand. He knew he had to do it right then or he was never going to do it. He leaned forward and pushed the box into Sherlock’s waiting hand.

 

Sherlock looked down at the box in his hand. It was small and wrapped with a single ribbon. He undid the ribbon and opened the box. To his surprise he found two engagement rings. He glanced over the box at his waiting boyfriend.

 

John wasn’t looking at him. He looked down at a pair of slightly shaking hands.

 

“You have to mean this,” Sherlock said.

 

“I do,” John said.

 

“Are you sure?” the taller man pressed.

 

“I am,” the doctor said.

 

“Well,” Sherlock said removing one of the rings from the case. “I suppose yes is the answer then.”

 

Sherlock tossed the box back to John. He removed his own ring from the box and slipped it on his finger.

 

It was then that Mycroft returned from the bathroom. Before he had left to hide in the bathroom the room had been a jumble of noise and activity. Now it was only silence and smiling faces.

 

“What did I miss?” he asked.

 

His only answer was a chuckle from Mrs. Hudson.

 

\--

 

Sherlock couldn’t believe it. He was going to get married. He was engaged. He was lying in bed looking at his ring. It was so strange to see the band on his finger. 

 

He was still staring at it when John crawled into bed with him.

 

“What are you thinking about?” John questioned as he curled up against him.

 

“Our future,” he answered lowered his hand. 

 

“Me too,” the doctor said. “I’m thinking about how nice Sherlock Watson sounds.”

 

“I have two requests John,” he said. 

 

“What are they?” John asked not surprised by the statement. 

 

He knew what one of them would be. He figured they would have a dispute about their future last name. 

 

“First,” Sherlock started. “I would like you to take my last name. Sherlock Watson just doesn’t sound right.”

 

“I am not being called John Holmes,” the doctor said with a snort. “That’s the name of very famous porn star.”

 

“So?” the detective asked. “Please John. I don’t ask much. Can’t you do this for me?”

 

John frowned looking at his lover. He wasn’t sure he could do that. It was strange to even think about taking another man’s last name. 

 

Was he really asking that much? The two of them were in love and were going to raise a child together. Sherlock had never loved anyone before. He struggled to trust people. Yet, he trusted John. He was willing to give him everything. He trusted him to lead him when he couldn’t see. He put his very safety in his hands. He knew it couldn’t be easy for him. 

 

“Fine,” John said with a shrug. “If it means that much to you. What’s the second thing?”

 

That caused Sherlock pause. He suddenly looked nervous and darted his eyes away from John. 

 

“I want to wait,” Sherlock said after a short moment of silence. 

 

“Wait for what?” John questioned. “The wedding?”

 

“No,” he said shaking his head. “Sex. I want to wait until the wedding to have sex.”

 

That caught John a bit off guard. Sherlock had developed a very healthy interest in sex.

 

“Why?” he asked and instantly regretted it. 

 

“Nevermind,” Sherlock said before rolling on his side. “Goodnight.”

 

John felt a stab of guilt. He had no right to ask that. It was Sherlock’s choice and they would do it when he was ready.

 

“Of course we can wait,” John said placing a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

 

He had no problem waiting until Sherlock was ready. He didn’t want to rush him into anything. 

 

“Thank you,” he said rolling over to face him once again. “That means a lot.”

 

Sherlock leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Boyfriend. Wrong word. Fiancee was more the right word. 

 

“I don’t want to have sex until then,” Sherlock explained, “but I have no problem with...well…”

 

“Fooling around?” John questioned.

 

Sherlock was so sweet and innocent. Something about it turned John on. Even though he would never admit it out loud. He liked the idea that he was leading Sherlock down the road of sexual exploration. 

 

He had a lot of power in their relationship. It was his job to make sure sex was an enjoyable experience. If his first time was no good he might not want to do it again.

 

“Yes,” he answered softly.  

 

“What do you want to do?” John questioned.

 

“Can we use the next butt plug?” Sherlock asked. “I think I’m ready for it.”

 

“We start with the smaller one,” the doctor instructed. “If that isn’t too bad we’ll move up to the next one. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.”

 

Sherlock nodded silently. He undressed before throwing his clothes to the floor. He disliked wearing his glasses during sexual activity but didn’t want to remove them. They got in the way a bit but they allowed him to see what was going on. 

 

Neither spoke as John retrieved the butt plug set from the closet. He took out the smallest one and the next one up. His hands were shaking slightly as he reached for the bottle of lubrication. He spread a little on his fingers as he settled between Sherlock’s legs.

 

“All set?” John asked as he placed a single finger at his lover’s entrance.

 

“Do it John,” Sherlock ordered. “We both know I can handle a few fingers.”

 

John smirked as he slid a finger inside. Sherlock let out a light gasp as he was penetrated. His body sucked up the finger without much effort. 

 

“John,” he moaned rocking on the finger. “More.”

 

His lover didn’t wait before adding another finger to the first. There was a slight burn as it was added but nothing Sherlock couldn’t handle. He wanted more. He wanted to be able to take the biggest toy. He wanted to be ready for when John took him for the first time.

 

John only worked him with his fingers for a few minutes before he removed them. He reached for the smallest toy. He took his time coating the butt plug with lube. It was practically dripping with the liquid before he placed it at Sherlock’s entrance. 

 

“Deep breath,” John instructed. 

 

Sherlock took a deep breath as John slid the toy home. It felt so foreign as it slipped inside of him. Slight cramps hit him as the toy was pressed deeper into him. His body was screaming at him that it didn’t belong there. Things weren’t supposed to go inside there. 

 

He tired to focus on the pleasure he was feeling. John was brushing up against his prostate. Not hard or with force. It was just enough to send little tingles of pleasure through his body. 

 

“There,” John said as the toy slid home. “All the way in.”

 

“I love it,” Sherlock said rocking against the butt plug. “It feels amazing.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt at all?” the doctor asked gently touching the end of the toy.

 

“No,” he said shaking his bouncing curls. “A bit...odd...but not painful.”

 

“Good,” John said gently pulling on the toy. “Tell me how this feels.”

 

John pulled the toy out just a bit before sliding it back in. Sherlock cried out and arched his back off the bed. The doctor chuckled to himself as he repeated the motion. Each time he would remove the toy just a little more. 

 

“More,” Sherlock moaned. “I want the next one.”

 

“Fine,” John said removing the toy.

 

Sherlock was right. He was ready for the next toy. If they did every night he would be ready for the real thing in a week. He couldn’t help but wonder why Sherlock was putting it off. Who knows when they would have the wedding. Did Sherlock want to get married right away or would he want to put it off? 

 

John pushed the idea to the back of his mind as he reached for the next toy. There would be plenty of time to discuss that later. 

 

He coated the bigger butt plug with lots of lube before pushing it against Sherlock’s entrance. It took a bit of effort but he managed to get the toy inside. Sherlock let out a small cry of pain as it started to slide in.

 

“Sorry,” John said gently rubbing Sherlock’s thigh. “Relax. Let it in.”

 

Sherlock took a deep breath as the toy slid in. It was reaching parts of him that the other butt plug had been unable to reach. It felt like it was never going to end. 

 

“Wait!” Sherlock cried as a rather rough cramp hit him.

John paused his movement right away. Sherlock reached down to grab John’s wrist with his own hand. The doctor noticed that his lover’s hands were trembling slightly. 

  
After a moment the trembling stopped. He removed his hand and relaxed into the mattress. His body was slowly accepting the intrusion. 

 

“Better?” John asked.

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a nodd. “You can keep going.”

 

John pressed forward very slowly and carefully. He kept his eyes locked on Sherlock’s face. He was looking for any sign that his friend was in pain. 

 

Sherlock might have been a bit uncomfortable but he didn’t seem to be in pain. His eyes were wide open but not looking at John. They were rolled back in his head. His mouth dropped open as he took more and more of the toy inside of him.

 

“Almost there,” John whispered. 

 

“John!” Sherlock cried as the butt plug slid fully into him. 

 

“Feel nice?” John asked getting rubbing Sherlock’s leg. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

 

“It’s amazing,” he said rocking down on the toy.

 

Each move sent a confusing wave of pleasure and pain through his body. It was clear his body didn’t want the toy there. Yet, the feeling of it brushing against his prostate and tender walls made his nerves stand on edge. 

 

“Can I move it?” John asked putting his hand on the end of the toy. 

 

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered. “Just go slow.”

 

John carefully pulled the toy out. Sherlock whimpered a bit as his walls clung to the item. He eased it back causing Sherlock to arch his back.

 

“Jo...John!” He whimpered completely submitting to feelings taking over him.

 

“That’s it,” he said moving the toy a bit faster. “Enjoy it. Let it happen.”

 

It only took a few more strokes of the toy before Sherlock couldn’t handle anymore. He was grinding down against the toy with all his might. He wanted more. He wanted something bigger. Something faster.

 

“John!” Sherlock cried as John hit his prostate head on. 

 

HIs vision went white as an intense orgasm took over him. Waves of tremors shook his body as cum erupted from his cock. 

 

John waited until he had stopped moving before he removed the toy. Sherlock let a whimper of pain as it was removed. 

 

“Sorry,” John said. 

 

Sherlock sighed as John walked into the bathroom. He felt sore and sticky inside. He liked being close to John. He liked the pleasure that was involved with sex but he didn’t like the aftermath. It hurt and was generally uncomfortable. 

 

He was curled up under the blanket when John returned. He slipped under the blanket next to him.

 

“What about you?” Sherlock asked. 

 

“I’m too tired tonight,” he explained. “We’ve both had a lot of excitement tonight.”

 

Sherlock nodded slightly. That was true. 

 

“Let’s get some sleep baby,” John said kissing the top of his head.

 

Sherlock smiled as his lover drifted off to sleep. Maybe their relationship would work out after all.


	26. Chapter 26

I now have a working scanner and free time to draw. I like drawing things to go along with my stories. Once a chapter or so I should have art to go along with the story.

-

 

Sherlock had no idea what he was supposed to do. He had a wedding to plan and had no idea where to start. He wanted to get married as soon as possible. He didn’t see any point in putting it off. They had set the date for March 3rd. That didn’t give them much time to get everything done.

 

John had left several wedding magazines around the flat but they didn’t help Sherlock much. He couldn’t read the small print and the pictures didn’t look that interesting.

 

Even with his glasses he couldn’t read. He had a few books with large print that made it easier but not easy enough.

 

He had purchased a kit to help learn Braille. Whenever he got a second alone he was studying it. Of course, he never did it in front of John. Sherlock wished he had John’s help learning the new language but didn’t want to ask.

 

Sherlock was accepting his disability more and more with each coming day but it was still hard. It was hard accepting he was going to need help with certain things the rest of his life. 

 

He was in the middle of one of his study periods when he heard a knock on the door. He sighed and removed his headphones. He hoped it was a case. It would really get his mind off his troubles. 

 

  


 

“Come in,” he said pushing the book off to the side.

 

The door to the sitting room opened. Mrs. Hudson peeked her head around the door. She had a large smile on her face and seemed overly pleased with herself.

 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to go try wedding cakes today,” she said. “I don’t have any plans today.”

 

Oh yes. The cake. 

 

“Sounds delightful,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

 

“I know this isn’t your thing,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’ll be right there to help. Two months is barely enough time to get this done but I can understand why you’re in a rush.”

 

Sherlock gave her a little smile as he got to his feet. He picked up Zorro’s harness and started getting the dog ready to go out.

 

“Don’t fret,”  Mrs. Hudson said. “I was nervous when I got married too. You and John are made for each other.”

 

Even though he tried not to show it her words were comforting. He knew she was right. John was the one person in his life that brought him unlimited joy. Yes, they argued from time to time but all couple urged.  No relationship was perfect. 

 

“Come along,” he said looking down at his dog. “Let’s go.”

-

Sherlock couldn’t decide what cake he liked. He had tried a dozen different flavors but nothing stood out to him.

 

“Did you like the red velvet?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

 

“I suppose,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a bit dry.”

 

The owner of the cake store was patiently standing in front of them. She was used to people struggling to make up their mind.

 

“Can I get a red velvet cake with buttercream frosting?” Sherlock questioned. “I think the buttercream would help.”

 

“Of course,” the owner said quickly writing down the order. “Do you want it white or a different color?”

 

“Magenta,” Sherlock answered right away.

 

The magenta would look amazing against the red velvet cake. 

 

“Sounds lovely,” the woman said jotting down the information.

 

He had picked out the flavor and color of the cake. After giving the woman the date of the wedding he left the store. He quickly hurried down the sidewalk. Zorro had to run to keep up with his master. 

 

It was all starting to feel real. They had booked the hall and ordered the cake. He was getting married. He was getting married to John.

 

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson shouted running after Sherlock. “Hold up there.”

 

Sherlock paused his walking to let his landlady catch up. He looked back at her to find she was looking at him with a worried look.

 

“What’s wrong?” she questioned. “You seemed be enjoying yourself.”

 

“What if I mess it up?” he asked. “You know how I am. I’m not the most enjoyable person to be around. What if John gets sick of me and leaves?”

 

I don’t think I could handle that.

 

Of course, he didn’t say that part out loud. He only thought that. He couldn’t handle it if John left him. It would be too much.

 

“Oh Sherlock,” she said pulling the tall man in for hug. “You aren’t going to mess anything up.”

 

“How can you know that?” he asked.  

 

“I can feel it,” she said rubbing his arm. “Everything's going to be alright. Let’s go get some lunch.”

 

Sherlock nodded as his landlady released him from her hold. He was still nervous about what the future held but he knew he had to face it. He hoped his landlady was right. He loved John and trusted him with all his heart. 

 

Perhaps that was what was scaring him. He trusted John. He was willing to marry him, adopt his child, and give him his virginity. He was the first person Sherlock had ever trusted so much. If John broke his heart he would never be able to trust anyone again and that was a scary though. 

 

_**Live in the moment.** _

 

Yes. He had to live in the moment. He needed to focus on planning his wedding and becoming the family he always wanted. He deserved this.  

 

Sherlock truly smiled for the first time that day as they of them headed off to lunch.


	27. Chapter 27

Planning the wedding was exciting for John. He was ready to be married again. He knew Sherlock was a bit nervous about it but he seemed excited about it as well. It was almost as if he just wanted to get it over with. He had wasted no time booking the hall and picking out the cake.

 

_ Perhaps he was more nervous about the wedding night than the wedding. _

 

The thought danced across his mind as he arrived home. 

 

Was that the reason he wanted to wait? Was he scared of having sex with him? 

 

That didn’t make much sense to him. Sherlock had already had the tip of his cock inside of him. Plus they’d been playing with a number of toys. He couldn’t be scared. 

 

Maybe it wasn’t the physical end of it he was scared of. Maybe it was the emotional end. Playing with toys was different than the actual thing. 

 

John walked into the flat trying to push the thoughts out of his head. He didn’t want to think about that. He had different thoughts on his mind. 

 

He needed to talk to Sherlock about Rosie. It clear the man cared for his daughter and even thought of her as his own daughter. He would understand if Sherlock didn’t want to adopt her. After all, it was a lifelong commitment. Yet, he wanted to give him the chance.

 

He had picked up the paperwork he needed to get the process started. He wouldn’t take it out unless Sherlock agreed to it. If he pulling out the paperwork first his lover might feel pressured to say “yes”. 

 

Sherlock was sitting on the couch with a pair of headphones on. Zorro was curled up next to his feet. A book lay open across his lap. He was running his fingers across the white pages. 

 

Braille. 

 

John had noticed the book hidden in their closet. He decided not to bring it up to Sherlock. It was clear that he didn’t want him to know about it.

 

The sound of the closing door caused Sherlock to jerk the headphones off. He sat them down and quickly closed the book.

 

“I didn’t hear you arrive,” Sherlock said not looking up.

 

“I guess I’m a bit early,” John said an apologetic voice. “Is Rosie asleep?”

 

“Yes,” he said glancing at John. “Just went down about five minutes ago.”

 

“Good,” John said sitting down in his chair. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

“What is it?” Sherlock said in a worried voice. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes,” the doctor said quickly. “I just wanted to talk to you about Rosie.”

 

Sherlock knew where this conversation was going. He was getting too close to Rosie. He’d been raising Rosie like his own daughter. Perhaps John thought he was trying to steal her away from him. After all, he got to see her more than John.  

 

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said. “I know I spend a lot of time with her. I just thought it was better than leaving her with a baby sister all the time. I know she isn’t mine. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to steal her.”

 

John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He thought he’d made it clear that he liked the two of them being so close.

 

“No,” John said shaking his head. “You have it backwards. I want you...I want to give you the chance to adopt Rosie.”

 

“Adopt her?” Sherlock questioned.

 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Rosie would be his daughter as well. She wouldn’t just be his god-daughter. She would be _his_ daughter. _Their_ daughter.

 

“Yes,” he said. “I understand if you don’t want to. It’s a big deal Sherlock.”

 

“Of course I want to,”  Sherlock answered. “I’ve thought about asking you but I thought it would come off a bit pushy.”

 

“We’re a family,” John said. “I’m overjoyed that you want to adopt Rosie. I’m overjoyed that you want to be a family.”

 

Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He was a father. At least he would be once the paperwork went through. The thought was starting to sink in.

 

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” John said retrieving the paperwork from his bag. “I already starting feeling it out. I just need you sign it.”

 

The detective couldn’t help but smile. John was sure he’d say yes. John got up from seat and walked over to him. He sat down on the couch and placed the paperwork on the coffee table.

With a little help from John Sherlock signed the paper and checked the few boxes he needed to. His hand was trembling as he  sat the pen down. 

 

“I’ll drop the paperwork off on the way to work tomorrow,” John said. 

 

“I think we could celebrate tonight,” Sherlock said as John put the paperwork away. 

 

“What did you have in mind?” the doctor asked. 

 

“Let’s go pick out our rings,” Sherlock said. “I know a man who owns a rather nice jewelry store. He owes me.”

 

“Tonight?” John asked a bit taken back.

 

“Why not?” Sherlock said. “I’ll see if Mrs. Hudson is home. She loves watching Rosie.”

 

Without waiting for John to respond Sherlock hurried out of the sitting room.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	28. Chapter 28

Sorry about the delay with this one. I’ve been working very hard on my other Sherlock Holmes fanfiction. Plus I’m working on the sequel to this story already. I don’t want to give much away but it will be a mixed media story. It’s pretty complicated to put together. I plan on finishing this story over the next few days. Hope you guys like it. 

\--

  
  
  
  


John and Sherlock headed to the jewelry store. It was a small store in a nice part of town. It looked like a place that only catered to the rich. A man rushed up to them as soon as they entered.

 

“Sherlock!” he said. “It’s been forever. When I found out you were engaged I knew you’d be here.”

 

“Friend of yours?” John questioned.

 

“Sort of,” Sherlock explained with a shrug of his shoulders. “I solved a crime for him a few years back. It wasn’t anything big.”

 

“My name is Larry Eastwood. An employee was stealing money from me but I couldn’t prove it,” he explained. “This guy figured it out and saved me a ton of money. Pick out whatever you want. I’ll give you a great deal.”

 

Larry left them to do their shopping. He walked behind the counter and started talking to one of the ladies that worked that.

 

“I don’t need anything fancy,” John explained as they started to look over rings. 

 

“Don’t be like this,” Sherlock said as Zorro led him around the shop. “I want you to have something nice. That’s why I brought you here.”

 

John smiled at that. He knew Sherlock was determined to make John happy. He wanted him to have the best things  He couldn’t really get mad at him for that. He just didn’t want to think it was _needed_. He was happy with a cheap ring.

 

“Do you like this one?” Sherlock asked pointing a ring with a rather large diamond. 

 

“It’s a bit big,” John explained looking over some different ones. 

 

HIs eyes fell on a ring with a medium sized diamond on it. He loved it! It was eye catching but the stone wasn’t overly large. Despite his bad vision Sherlock noticed John’s fixed gaze on the ring.

 

“Do you like it?” he questioned. 

 

“Yes,” John admitted even though he felt guilty about it. “I do like it but...aren’t green diamonds really expensive?”

 

“It’s fine,” his boyfriend said. “I’m sure Larry will give me a good deal.”

 

“Do you want to get one that matches?” John questioned.

 

Sherlock shook his head letting his curls bounce a bit. He already had his mind made up about what kind of ring he wanted. He was a bit shy about saying it outloud. He was afraid that John would judge him for it.

 

“No,” Sherlock said softly. “I want something different.”

 

“What did you have in mind?” John questioned looking over more diamond rings.

 

“I...I want one with a pink diamond,” the half blind man said looking away from John.

 

“I’ll help you look for one,” the doctor said. 

 

That surprised Sherlock. He really did expect John to at least laugh at his request. After all, he didn’t look like the type of guy that would wear a pink wedding ring. He let out a relieved sigh and started to help John look.

 

Of course, his limited vision didn’t help him look. John found the ring and quickly pointed it out to Sherlock. 

 

“How about that one?” John questioned.

 

The one that John pointed out looked like the one he himself had picked out. The only difference was that the diamond was a different color. It was just what Sherlock wanted. Sherlock knew the two rings were going to be very expensive but could easily afford them. 

 

“That’s the one,” he said.

 

It was really starting to feel real to them. They were getting married. They were picking out their ring and getting married. Sherlock started to shake a bit at the thought of it.

 

“Are you alright?” John asked sensing Sherlock’s change of mood.

 

“Yes,” he said smiling at him. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed by all this. There’s a lot to do.”

 

“We’re almost done,” John said wrapping an arm around Sherlock’s waist. “Then the two of us will have a long happy marriage.”

 

“I know,” Sherlock said nodding.

 

“Let’s go get this done,” John said taking Sherlock’s free hand into his. 

 

The two of them walked over to talk to Larry to buy their rings. 

 


	29. Chapter 29

The next few weeks sped by as the two men prepared for their wedding. It seemed like they were making different arrangements up until the day before the wedding. Some things Sherlock needed were rather hard to get and he had to make a few calls to make sure he got them.

 

They had agreed to write their own vows and Sherlock needed to print his note cards with a braille printer. John arranged for braille to be included on all the programs. 

 

Finally, everything was in order and the day was there.

 

John had headed to the hall first to make sure everything was in order. Young Rosie was downstairs with Mrs. Hudson getting her fancy dress on.  That left Sherlock home alone in their flat with his dog.

 

He would be riding along with Mrs. Hudson once she had Rosie dressed. Sherlock didn’t see the point in getting her dressed already. She was going to find a way to get dirty before the wedding started. 

 

He glanced at the large digital clock. Eight am. They still had two hours before it started.

 

He couldn’t believe he was really getting married. 

 

John was going to marry him.

 

No matter how many times he said it in his head he still couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe someone was going to marry him.

 

A knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts.

 

“Come in,” he said.

 

The door opened and Mrs. Hudson walked in holding Rosie in her arms. She was wearing a pink dress with blue flowers and little black shoes. 

 

“Papa!” she said reached her arms out.

 

Sherlock stood up and crossed over to her. He took the child into his arms and smiled down at her. She giggled and snuggled with him.

 

“Are you getting dressed there?” Mrs. Hudson asked. 

 

“Yes,” he explained. “John packed my bag and left it on our bed.”

 

“I’ll go get it,” she said walking off to Sherlock’s bedroom.

 

Sherlock took that chance to look down at his daughter. The paperwork was still going through. He was told it would be official in a couple of days. He didn’t care that he was still waiting on a piece of paper. She was his daughter. Well, she was John’s daughter too. 

 

He was a dad.

 

The thought still hadn’t sunk in all the way. He had never expected to be a dad. Yet, there he was holding his daughter. 

 

“I’ll take her while you put Zorro’s harness on,” Mrs. Hudson said when she re-appeared. 

 

Sherlock handed off the child before turning his attention to Zorro. He always excited to get his harness put on. 

 

“Come on along Zorro,” he said. “We have a big day today.”

 

The four of them headed out of the flat ready for an exciting day.

 

\--

 

John showed up at the hall as soon he could to make sure everything was in order. He had even hired a few people to help him set everything up. It seemed like something needed to be adjusted or changed every time he changed his head.

 

“No,” he said walking over to two men. “I told you the walk spaces need to be very wide. My boyfriend can’t see. He needs space.”

 

“Sorry Sir,” one of the men said. “We’ll fix it.”

 

“Yes Mr. Watson we’ll get it,” the other bloke said.

 

John let out a frustrated sigh as he went to check on the food. If the food wasn’t being handled correctly he was going to lose his mind. They’d been planning this for weeks. There was no reason for it not to go smoothly. 

 

“John!” Sherlock’s voice carried across the hall. 

 

He turned to see Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson walking towards him. Young Rosie was in one of Sherlock’s arms and was already dressed. Zorro was at Sherlock side as usual. His grumpy mood slipped away as saw his daughter and boyfriend walking towards him.

 

“Daddy!” she said reaching her arms out.

 

“Hello darling,” he said taking his daughter. “How are you?”

 

“Good,” she said clapping her hands. “Papa and Daddy.”

 

“That’s right,” he said smiling at Sherlock. “We’re both together and we’re going to be a family forever.”

 

“I’ll get dressed,” the detective said. “Mrs. Hudson will show me where it is. Try and relax. I can tell you’re stressing yourself.”

 

“I’m fine,” John assured him. “I’m just making sure everything goes right.”

 

Sherlock knew John was pushing himself a bit too hard to make their wedding day perfect. He didn’t mind but he didn’t want John to stress himself out. He had tried to help him but the good doctor insisted he could do it and the Sherlock had already done his share.

 

“Come on,” Mrs. Hudson said walking towards the dressing rooms. “Let’s get you dressed.”

 

\--

 

Once Sherlock was dressed the nervousness really hit home. He had expected John to back out all morning. Yet, he hadn’t. It seemed like he was going to go through with it. 

 

He was going to marry him.

 

“Do you need any help in there?” Mrs. Hudson asked from the other side of the door.

 

“No,” Sherlock said picking up his note cards. 

 

He ran his fingers of the raised bumps. He had spent hours working on his vows. He just hoped that John liked them. 

 

“You’re parents just got here,” Mrs. Hudson explained. “Even Mycroft is here.”

 

Mycroft? That was unexpected. Perhaps their parents were making him come. It was pretty hard to say “no” to their mother. 

 

Sherlock opened the door and allowed Zorro to led him out of the room. Mrs. Hudson was standing by the door smiling at him.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” she said giving him a hug. “I can’t believe this is finally happening. I’m sorry happy for you two.”

 

“Thank you Mrs. Hudson,” he said returning the hug. “I’m going to go find my parents.”

 

Sherlock quickly headed off to find his parents.

 

\--

 

It was starting. The wedding was starting. He was getting married. Sherlock headed to the front of the hall. Sherlock had insisted on getting married in the hall by a r egistrar. He wasn’t getting married in a church. John didn’t fight him about it. He knew how Sherlock felt about religion. 

 

He looked around and found his parents sitting in the third row of seats. Mycroft, Molly and Lestrade were sitting next to them. Lestrade and Molly looked happy to be there. The police officer smiled and waved at Sherlock. Molly was deep in conversation with his mother. His brother didn’t seem to feel the same way. He had a grumpy look on his face and was looking down at his mobile phone.

 

Mrs. Hudson and Rosie were sitting in the front row chatting with some of John’s friends. 

 

Zorro gave a little wine as he looked up at his master. The dog could tell something was on his mind. Sherlock gave the creature a little smile as they kept walking towards the front. Sherlock was clutching the note cards in his hands with shaky hands.

 

Sherlock glanced up to see John standing on the edge of his field of view. He moved to stand in front of the  r egistrar. He took a deep breath before looking back in John’s direction. 

 

As John started walking towards him the hall fell silent. Everyone’s eyes turned to John. The photographer they had hired started taking pictures. 

 

John walked over to stand across from Sherlock. The two exchanged a nervous glance. 

 

“We are gathered here to join John Watson and Sherlock Holmes in marriage,” the  r egistrar said. “The pair has choose to write their own vows.”

 

“I’ll go first,” Sherlock said holding his note cards with both hands.

 

Sherlock tried not to think about all the people looking at him. This was about him and John. He needed to forget that his family and friends were staring at him. If he didn’t he would never get through it. Even though he knew his vows by heart he still wanted to hold the note cards. It would give him something to focus on.

 

“I remember the first time I met you,” Sherlock said running his fingers over the bumps. “I never expected us to become a couple. I never expected to marry anyone. You became my best friend. No matter what stupid thing I did you were there to support me. You...You were there to keep me on the right course. You gave me something I never had. Now, I’m going to marry you. I’m going to spend the rest of my life married to you and raising our daughter. I can’t promise to be the perfect husband. The only thing thing I can do is try my hardest and hope it’s enough.”

 

Sherlock slid the cards into his pocket before glancing at John. His boyfriend was looking at him a pleased look. It seemed like he had liked his speech after all.

 

“When I first met you everyone encouraged me to stay away from you,” John said. “You were so different. I guess that scared a lot of people. It didn’t scare me. It drew me in. Even when you are annoying I still like being around you. I can’t stay mad at you no matter how hard I try. You started raising my daughter without a second thought. You treated her like she was your own and jumped at the chance to adopt her. You’re an amazing man and I’m lucky to have you.”

 

“The rings?” The registrar asked.

 

Mrs. Hudson rose from her chair and walked over to the two of them. She shifted Rosie to one arm and pulled the ring boxes from her pocket. She handed them over to John and Sherlock before sitting back down.

 

Sherlock gave a small laugh when he noticed the dirt smeared on Rosie’s dress. He knew she would find a chance to get dirty.

 

John and Sherlock both opened the boxes and removed the rings. John leaned forward and slid the ring with the pink diamond onto Sherlock’s finger. Sherlock took a deep breath of relief as the ring slid into the place. He moved forward and did the same to John. The ring with the green diamond easy slid onto his finger. 

 

“By the power granted to me I now pronounce you partners in life,” the  r egistrar said. “You may now kiss.”

 

Sherlock leaned in and allowed John to press his lips to his own. The noise of clapping filled the previously quiet hall. 

 

They were married. They had actually done it.

 

\--

 

Sherlock wasn’t much for parties but he couldn’t leave. It was his own wedding. He found a chair at the back of the hall and sat down with a piece of cake. He glanced up at the gift table. John was there thanking their guest for their gifts. Sherlock’s father was standing by the table. His father caught his gaze and started heading over. 

 

Great. Just what he needed.

 

“How you doing?” Tim asked as he reached the table. 

 

“Fine,” Sherlock said nodding to a chair. “You’re free to sit.”

 

Tim pulled out a chair and sat down. 

 

“You seem nervous,” his father explained. “You’ve been hiding since we cut the cake.”

 

“I find these kinds of these a bit overwhelming,” he explained waving his hand in the general direction of the crowd.

 

“When are you two leaving?” Tim questioned.

 

“We have to get out of here right off,” Sherlock said with a sigh. 

 

“Paris,” Tim said with a deep sigh. “It’s a very romantic city.”

 

“Yes,” he said trying to avoid the subject. 

 

“Nervous?” his father questioned.

 

Sherlock looked at his father in shock. How did his father know? What about him screamed “virgin”? 

 

“I can tell,” he said with a laugh. “You’re practically shaking.” 

 

“I’d rather not talk about it,” the half blind man said. “I have to go get John moving.”

 

“If you aren’t ready tell him,” Tim urged. “Talking is the most important thing a couple going.”

 

“I have to get my husband,” Sherlock said patting his father on the shoulder. “We have a plan to catch.”

 

Tim chuckled as he watched his son walk away with his seeing eye doctor. He never expected Sherlock to ever get married. Now, he had a wonderful husband a beautiful little girl. Things were finally starting to come together for him.

  
  


\---

This is going to have 2 more chapters. I am working on the sequel right now. It will be a mixed media story. It will be set when Rosie is 13. She’ll have a tumblr blog to go along with the story. The address is  [ https://screechingpuppypeace.tumblr.com/  ](https://screechingpuppypeace.tumblr.com/) I’m pretty sure you can read it without being a member of the site. I want this to be interactive so if you want to please sign up for Tumblr. Make an account as a kid her age and communicate with her! I’ll try and work everyone who reaches out to her into the story. Also you don’t have to be nice to her. If you want to be a bully like figure go for it. Just try and be family friendly with it. I’ve started posting on it already to try and make it feel “real” when the new story comes out. Have fun!


	30. Chapter 30

As soon as they reached Paris the two of them checked in at their hotel. It was just starting to get dark as they stepped through the automatic doors. Mycroft had booked them a nice room at the Five Hotel. Sherlock and John insisted that they would pay for it but Mycroft had insisted on it.

 

When they walked up the counter they were greeted by a smiling clerk.

 

“Bonjour. Sherlock et John Holmes s'enregistrent,” Sherlock said before John had a chance to speak.

 

“Bienvenue! Nous allons demander à quelqu'un d'apporter vos bagages. Signe juste ici,” the clerk said handing Sherlock some paperwork.

 

John knew Sherlock spoke a bit of french but he had no idea it was so good. He watched as Sherlock checked them in. A bell boy came and helped take their baggage up to their room.

 

Zorro was focused on his work but he was glancing around the hotel with an excited look. This was his first big trip. He’d been a bit nervous on the airplane but had calmed down rather quick.

 

As they rode the elevator to their room John felt his excitement growing. Tonight was the night! He was going to have sex with his husband. Well, that was if Sherlock was ready. If he still wasn’t ready there was no way he would push it.

 

After Sherlock tripped the bellboy they headed into the hotel room.

 

John’s new husband dumped their bags on the floor near the bed before undoing Zorro’s harness. The dog ran off at once and began sniffing all around the room.

 

“So you want to go get something to eat?” John asked as Sherlock flopped onto the bed.

 

“No I’m not hungry,” Sherlock said shaking his head. “I’m fine with staying here. We can order something in if you’re hungry.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” the doctor said sitting down next to his husband.

 

“John,” Sherlock said softly looking at him. “I am ready for this but I’m a bit..”

 

**Scared.**

 

What if he didn’t like it? What if John didn’t it? What if he didn’t do it right?

 

“We’re here three days,” the doctor said. “We don’t have to this tonight. We could do a little sightseeing and then…”

 

“No,” Sherlock said shaking his head. “Waiting anymore will make it worse.”

 

John wished he knew what he could say or do to relax his lover. He wanted it to be a pleasant experience for him.

 

Sherlock jerked him out of his thoughts by leaning in and kissing him. John moaned a bit relaxing into the kiss. He could feel Sherlock’s hands on him. He was slowly removing his coat.

 

“Sher….” he moaned as they split up for air. “I love you so much.”

 

“You better,” Sherlock said removing his own coat.

 

He couldn’t hide the slight shaking of his hands as he removed his removed his clothes. Soon a pile of disregarded clothes appeared on the floor. Sherlock laid back against the pillow and looked up at his lover.

 

John leaned off the bed and began to dig through one of the bags until he came across a bottle of lube. He opened Sherlock’s legs and settled down between them. Sherlock tried to relax and let his legs fall loose.

 

The good doctor open the bottle slowly. He didn’t want it to make a clicking noise. He knew the noise would scare Sherlock.

 

He squeezed a bit out onto his fingers. He lowered his fingers down to touch Sherlock’s hidden hole.

 

“Take a deep breath alright?” John suggested.

 

Sherlock nodded as John slid the finger forward. He let out a gasp as the finger slid forward. No matter how many times they fooled around it still felt _strange_.

 

“Alright?” John asked as he worked his finger in and out.

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said closing his eyes. “It gets easier every time.”

 

John smiled as Sherlock’s legs fell as wide as they could. He seemed to be enjoying the finger in his behind. He was starting to move back against it. John decided to add another finger without asking Sherlock. He was worried the question would make him tense him up.

He carefully added a second finger. Sherlock tensed up a bit as he slid the two fingers home but quickly relaxed. John was being careful to avoid his prostate. He was worried Sherlock would cum if he touched it.

 

“John…” he moaned twisting his head from side to side. “I want you.”

 

“One more finger,” John explained. “You’re doing amazing.”

 

John carefully slid in a third finger. Sherlock whimpered a little and starting moving away from the invading fingers.

 

“Hold still,” John said gently gripping Sherlock’s knee. “You’re tensing up.”

 

“It stings,” Sherlock explained. “Put more lube on it.”

 

John removed his fingers and added more lube to them. He carefully replaced them in Sherlock’s entrance. He still whimpered but didn’t pull away.

 

“Good,” the doctor said softly. “Is this better?”

 

“Much,” the detective said panting softly.

 

“How do you want it?” John questioned. “Do you want to be on your back?”

 

“What’s the best way?” Sherlock questioned. “I’ve read being on your back is the best for newcomers but I can understand if-”

 

“We’ll try that if that’s what you want,” the doctor said removing his fingers. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

 

A condom? Sherlock didn’t think that was needed.

 

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I want you to…”

 

He couldn’t finish the sentence. He was about ready to have sex for the first time. He was married to the man he was going to lose his virginity to. He wanted to feel John finish inside of him.

 

“I get it,” John said.

 

John grabbed the bottle of lube and dumped a generous amount onto his penis. He took his wet penis into his hand and lined it up.

 

“Take a deep breath and then let it out slowly,” John explained. “It’s very important that you don’t tense up.”

 

Sherlock took a deep breath and slowly let it out. John started pushing when Sherlock started letting the air out.

 

“John!” he cried out as the head started sliding in.

 

“Don’t tense up,” John instructed as the head of his cock slipped into place. “This is the worst part.”

 

“It hurts really bad,” Sherlock cried fisting the sheets with his hands.

 

John felt horrible. He didn’t want to cause his lover any pain.

 

“I won’t move,” John promised. “I need you to relax.”

 

Sherlock tried to relax and forget about the pulsing cock head inside of him. It did hurt but not as much as he said. It was more overwhelming than anything. He just didn’t know how to express it. He took a few long deep breaths.

 

“That’s a boy,” John said running a hand down Sherlock’s leg. “Let me inside.”

 

“John…” he moaned softly.

 

He wanted to please John. He wanted to make John happy.

 

John felt Sherlock’s insides loosen around him. He carefully pushed forward. Sherlock was gripping him for all he was worth. It was the tightest place he had ever been. The doctor had his eyes fixated on the place where their two bodies joined.

 

“Take my glasses,” Sherlock said suddenly.

 

John looked up to see Sherlock holding out his glasses to him.

 

“I’m sweating,” the detective explained. “They keep slipping.”

 

John quickly took the glasses and folded them. He placed them on the bedside table. He glanced at Sherlock to find him looking at him with a nervous look.

 

“You alright?” John asked.

 

“I’m broken John,” Sherlock said. “I can barely see you right now. I’m helpless. Why do you want me?”

 

Sherlock knew this was the wrong time to bring it up but he couldn’t help it. In that moment he felt helpless.

 

“You aren’t broken Sherlock,” he said. “You’re my amazing husband. I love you. I wouldn’t care if you couldn’t see at all. You’re my Sherlock and nothing will ever change that.”

 

Sherlock felt horrible about bringing up his issues during sex. He didn’t want to ruin their first time with his problems but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t believe that it was happening. He couldn’t believe that John was actually making love to him. John deserved better than him.

 

“Stop,” John ordered. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now I want you to enjoy this. I want you to enjoy being taken for the first time.”

 

John slid further into his lover. Sherlock cried out and arched his back off the bed. It felt so strange. So _invasive_. It was pushing against his sensitive insides. It felt so massive and deep inside of him.

 

“Wait!” Sherlock cried as a sudden cramp hit him.

 

His body didn’t want John going any deeper inside of him.

 

“Alright,” John said stopping at once. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Cramp,” he explained. “Hurts.”

 

“I won’t go any deeper,” John promised. “I’m about halfway.”

 

Only half way and it hurt that badly?

 

Sherlock growled trying to ignore the pain. Despite the discomfort it felt good. Every once in a while John would brush up against his prostate.

 

“You can fuck me,” Sherlock explained. “Just don’t go deeper.”

 

John nodded even though he wasn’t sure Sherlock could see it. He slowly pulled out before pushing back in. He made sure not go any deeper than half way. Each time he pushed in Sherlock would arch his back and moan. Sherlock looked so amazing whenever they were intimate. His face was glistening with sweet. His curly hair was sticking to his forehead. He looked so wild and untamed.

 

WIthin a few minutes he was going faster and harder. Sherlock didn’t seem to mind. His eyes were rolled back in his head and his hands were practically ripping the sheets.

 

“More,” Sherlock moaned. “I think I can take more.”

 

John carefully slid a little further into his lover. Sherlock was still tight but he seemed a bit more relaxed. He didn’t think he was hurting him. His thoughts were confirmed when Sherlock wrapped his legs around his waist.

 

He was pulling him closer and deeper.

 

“You’re so big,” Sherlock moaned as his husband slid fully into him. “It...it feels like too much but not enough…I don’t know…”

 

“It’s a bit overwhelming huh?” John asked stopping his motions. “Just relax and tell me what to do.”

 

“I want slow long deep strokes,” the detective explained. “I… I think I like that.”

 

John did as he was told. He pulled out almost all the way before slowly sinking into the hilt. Sherlock moaned and rocked against his cock. He seemed to want it even deeper. John repeated the motion several times.

 

He really didn’t know how much longer he was going to last. Sherlock felt so amazing around him.

 

“Sherlock..” he started.

 

“Finish,” Sherlock said as if he could read his mind. “I’m close too. You can faster.”

 

John slowly started going faster. He didn’t want to start slamming into his right away. He didn’t want to hurt or scare his lover.

 

“Yes!” he cried out pushing up against John. “More!”

 

The doctor wasted no time speeding up. He could feel his orgasm building up. He couldn’t wait for it. He couldn’t wait to explode inside of his husband.

 

“John!” the man under him cried as his fell over the edge.

 

Sherlock tightened around him as cum flew out of the end of his own cock. He howled John’s name over and over as his orgasim rocked his body.

 

That was all it took for John to finish inside of him. He drove in rather harder than he intended to as he emptied himself Sherlock.

 

“Ow,” Sherlock whimpered as he was filled.

 

“Sorry,” John said before pulling out of him. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes,” he said letting his legs flop to the bed. “Sore but alright.”

 

“That was amazing,” John said giving him a quick kiss. “I see you enjoyed it.”

 

“Of course I did,” he said. “I just made love to my husband. I love you John. I love you so much.”

 

John was just starting to catch his breath when he heard Zorro crying. He let out an annoyed sigh looking across the room at the dog. The large door was standing by the door with his leash in his mouth.

 

“Of course you need to go out,” John said a bit sharply.

 

He did like Zorro but sometimes having  dog was rather annoying.

 

“I’ll do it,” Sherlock said sitting up. “He’s my dog.”

 

“No,” John said getting out of the bed. “You rest. You’ve got to be sore as hell. I’ll do it.”

 

John picked his clothes up off the floor and quickly put them on.

 

Sherlock hated letting John do things for him. It was his dog. His limited vision didn’t stop him from doing anything. Yet, he had to admit that having a helping hand around did make his life easier.

 

“Get me a flannel while your up,” Sherlock said.

 

John chuckled as he walked into the bathroom. He fetched a flannel from the sink and brought it Sherlock. The detective brought the flannel up to clean the sweet from his face. He reached over, grabbed his glasses, and slipped them on his face.

 

“I’ll order some food while you’re out,” he explained. “Anything you want in particular?”

 

“No,” John said snapping Zorro’s regular leash on. “Anything is fine. I’ll try and be fast.”

 

Sherlock nodded as John and Zorro walked out of the room.

 

-

Sherlock called room service and ordered two trays of Beef bourguignon and a bottle of wine. John would like that well enough.

 

He thought about taking a shower but quickly dismissed the idea. His shampoo and bath wash were still packed away in their luggage. He really didn’t feel like looking for it at the moment.

 

In the end he decided to make use of the hot tub that sat in the corner of the sitting room. He flicked on the large flat screen in the sitting room and slipped into the hot tub. He took off his glasses and set them on the edge of the hot tub just within reach. He closed his eyes and resting them on the padded side of the hot tub.

 

The french news was playing. Sherlock could understand and speak french very well but he wasn’t listening.

 

He was thinking. He was thinking about John.

 

Why had he brought his issues up during sex? It had only made John uncomfortable. Sometimes he didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut. At least John didn’t seem too upset about it. He just didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

 

John was the perfect husband and he didn’t deserve him. He was a disabled half blind man who always seemed to find himself in trouble.

 

What was he doing to do? He needed to be a wonderful husband, father, and member of society. He needed to be a good role model for his daughter. He wanted to give her the best life she could possibly have. He wanted to give John the best marriage he could have.

 

“Room service!” a female voice called.

 

“I’m blind,” Sherlock called from the hot tub. “Can you let yourself in?”

 

While that wasn’t the truth it was a bit too hard to explain at the moment. In truth he was too comfortable to get out of the hot tub and open the door.

 

“Of course Monsieur,” the lady said.

 

Sherlock heard the jingle of keys and the girl speaking to someone else. He heard the door open and the rolling of a cart.

 

“I’m back” JOhn said entered the room. “I guess I got back just in time. Thank you miss.”

 

Sherlock listened as the the door closed again. He could hear John taking Zorro’s leash off.

 

“Blind?” John questioned walking closer to the hot tub. “I guess someone is being lazy. MInd if I join you while the food cools?”

 

“Of course not,” Sherlock said opening his eyes.

 

He glanced in the direction of John’s voice. Without his glasses his vision was still half dark and very blurry. He knew John was standing there though. He could make him out just enough to know it was him.

 

John took off his clothes and slipped into the warm water. He cuddled up against his husband and let out a happy sigh.

 

“Stop thinking,” John ordered. “You’re thinking far too much. I love you. Rosie loves you. You’re going to be a wonderful husband and you’re already a great father.”

 

“How did…” Sherlock started to ask but stopped short.

 

“I know how you are,” he said. “You don’t think you’re good enough for Rosie and me.”

 

“I can’t helping thinking it,” he whispered more to himself than John.

 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you weren’t worth it,” the doctor explained. “I would never let someone I don’t trust with all my heart raise Rosie. Remember that.”

 

“I guess so,” Sherlock said smiling.

 

“That’s right,” John said. “Let’s just relax and enjoy our honeymoon. God knows we don’t get enough time alone together at home.”

 

Wasn’t that the truth? Sherlock chuckled in agreement and rubbed his head against John. Yes. He was going to enjoy his honeymoon.

  


-

 

Yes! My favorite chapter to write. Aw...so sad there is only one more chapter but do not worry. There will be a very interesting story after this.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	31. Chapter 31

During their honeymoon all Sherlock’s worry was washed away. Each time the two of them made love Sherlock relaxed more and more. 

 

John loved him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. There was nothing that was going to seperate the two of them. 

 

When the arrived back in London a few days later they headed straight for their flat. They wanted to see their daughter. No doubt she would be excited to see them after a few days.

 

The two of them headed up the stairs to their flat. John could already smell a large breakfast cooking. No doubt Mrs. Hudson wanted to give them a nice welcome home breakfast. Sherlock opened the door to the flat and stepped inside.

 

“Papa!” a little voice.

 

Sherlock looked to see his daughter sitting in her playpen with a book in her small hands. She dropped the book and began to cry loudly.

 

“I’m coming little one,” Sherlock said taking Zorro’s harness off.

 

As soon as the dog was free he ran and jumped on the couch. Sherlock shook his head at the dog before walking over to the his daughter. He bent down and picked up the child. Her crying stopped as soon as she was in Sherlock’s arms.

 

“How is my little girl?” John asked reaching his side. “Did you have fun with Mrs. Hudson?”

 

“She was an angel,” Mrs. Hudson said from the kitchen. “She was a bit fussy this morning but not too bad.”

 

“Good to hear,” John said chasing the dog off the couch. “Come on Zorro. Off the furniture.”

 

The dog gave an unhappy grunt but did jump off the couch. He walked a few feet away and curled up behind Sherlock's chair. John sat down on the couch and gave the dog a little smile. He didn’t hate the dog. In fact, he loved Zorro. He just annoyed him a bit sometimes.

 

“Do you want pancakes Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson asked. “I know you aren’t nuts about them.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said still looking at his child. “I’m starving.”

 

His child. Yes, Rosie was his child as well. He could raise her. He could be a good dad. 

 

John smiled watching Sherlock and Rosie together. He really did love that little girl. He had a feeling the three of them were going to be a great little family.

-

 

John grumbled as he went about getting ready for work. It was always hard to go back to work after a few days of having fun. He walked into the kitchen to find Sherlock making Rosie’s breakfast. The young child was sitting the high chair yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

 

“How is my little girl?” John asked walking over to the high chair. 

 

“Good,” she said yawning.

 

“A bit sleepy this morning,” Sherlock explained walking over with a bowl of oatmeal.

 

“Any plans for today?” John questioned putting on his jacket. 

 

“It’s a nice day,” Sherlock said. “I’ve called Lestrade and asked not to be disturbed for anything less than an eight. I plan on taking Rosie to the Zoo.”

 

“That sounds fun,” John said. “Have fun you two. I’ll pick up something for dinner on the way home.”

 

John gave his husband a quick kiss before rushing out of the flat. Sherlock gave a happy sigh as Rosie picked up the spoon and attempted to feed herself. 

 

Maybe he could do this. Maybe he could be a good father. Afterall, it didn’t seem too hard so far. 

  
  
  



End file.
